what will Pride be like this year
with our government in shambles
and all the blame for
everything
placed on the shoulders of those
who pioneered the struggle and marches
that today’s parades are based on
will rainbow capitalism
make an appearance
or are we simply
closer to Sylvia and Marsha P’s era
than we ever have been
before?
[and will that help
in community-building
and getting back
to what Pride
actually means?]
welcome, me,
i say to myself, out loud
because i can’t seem to
get on my own side
without making it a show
for someone
else
[that feels like an important lesson to have sink in]
i don’t know what i’m waiting for
but i’m waiting
i’m waiting
in photography, i have no problem
taking tens
of hundreds
of thousands of photos
knowing that somewhere in there,
there will be a great picture —
gorgeous
experimental
framed well
captured beautifully
and composition, exquisite
and even in poetry, mornings of multitudes,
all my poems
multiple
every morning, i know
not every poem will be great
but somewhere in here
there may be something
to write home about
then why oh why do i shy away from
the writing of prose/novels/
or plays?
as if i need my first try to be
so great
otherwise i should just
give
up
?
is it simply that it takes so much longer to write
longer form, than it does to slap dash down a poem
or capture a second or few
in a non-moving image?
so the effort to output
ratio feels more
[risky]
[or am i so scared of something more/or less scary?]
don’t let fear
run your life
or even tell you
how you’re failing —
the fear is there
yes
but you’re doing the things
anyway
on top of the fear
the fear doesn’t define you
it’s the doing it even while scared
that does
and that is badass
make up for something you’ve done,
a sin or just
a blunder,
and see how long it takes
for you to forgive yourself
vs
how long it takes
for others
to even realize
you’ve done
wrong.
i’m unsure the point i’m trying to make with this poem,
but i think it has something to do with
our own perceptions of our own
moralities —
and while i’d rather my friends live
guilt-free lives,
i’d also rather have as friends
those who make sure to
do right by those they’ve wronged
well past when we’ve forgotten,
than those who think their morality
is beyond
reproach
burning hands
burning feets
burning face
how mystique
mistaken and confused
my kip’s nerve endings are being
have been
the last few weeks
[i hope we find out soon what’s going on]
i just want to run around in a field
or forest
without having to worry
about taxes
or dinners
or interpersonal relationships
except for those i create in my mind
where is my idyllic adulthood?
i
often listen to podcasts
[more often than not]
and some of them i cannot stand
until and unless
they are sped
up
up
and away i run, blocking out my own thoughts
with speeds set to
increase
my own
anxieties
but when i slow down
and try
[i do try]
to listen at a show’s natural pace,
i find my heart pounding
waiting
each millisecond
for the next sound to be heard
like my own brain and body
accrue more anxiety
from normalness
and anticipation
than from the sped-up versions
of life
so
do i live in the moments
between moments
where time seems to extend
ad-infinitum
and unbearably so,
or do i continue to block out intuitions
and worry that my life
is speeding past my eyes
at an unrecognizable rate?
i don’t know
i don’t know
pain
and depression
are linked for me,
for i can stand
a great deal of each
but the moment it/i reach
a breaking point
a moment when the pain is too unbearable
a moment when my thoughts get too dark
even for my somber self,
a moment when i feel at the brink of too muchness
and nothingness
that is exactly when the physical and mental pain
fades
and i am left feeling so silly
for wondering if
now
was the moment i’d give in
and just
die
kipventures 