loving and doting on and still kissing my animals
while holding their faces
and staring into their eyes
and stating
“i’m allergic to you”
is so silly
but so
satisfying
[and almost makes it feel
ok
to have this knowledge]
Author: HJ
January 9, 2026
books
upon books
upon books upon books upon books
that’s what our house is made of
[and i wouldn’t have it
any other way]
January 8, 2026
maybe time to write
maybe time
to
not
but all i know is
i have tea
beside me
and music
coming from this apparatus
on which i write these words
and i could write for another hour and twenty minutes
or i could
not
and it wouldn’t make much of a difference
for anyone other than
myself
but for myself
it could make
all the difference
in the world
January 7, 2026
trying
and trying
and trying again
and going
and running
and will there ever be a
rest?
[i mean, there just was
and i think that’s what makes this
sudden
rocket
into doing
so hard…]
January 6, 2026
sometimes i write things
and i can follow my own train of thought
like “ah, i see this scent/song/experience
reminded me of this other one
and now i gotta work backwards
through poetry
to find all the connections, but they’re there
i see them
clear
as
day”
and then there are times where i’ll just random write words
and even then, sometimes, the underlying meaning
or at least the underlying inspiration
is right there for me to see
clearly
and yet
there are other times
[like very very recently]
where i’ll write a thing
and it’s like my fingers had a mind of their own
and i’ll look at the poem
and think to myself
“what the actual fuck?”
“where in the multiverse did that come from?”
“am i even in the same body as these appendages of mine???”
but i suppose that’s what makes poetry
kinda fun
sometimes
January 5, 2025
a goal
became a challenge
became a dare
became a pact
and i’m only acting in accordance with
the original wording i signed
onto in this contract
with myself
[perhaps i will stop referring to this as a poetry-writing challenge
with a word count goal
and use instead the words
dare
and
pact
they hold more equal weight
with what this has done
to my soul]
January 4, 2026
dusty computer screen
don’t fix it
don’t wipe it away
instead enjoy how each speck
catches the sunlight as it streams through the window
a little earlier
and earlier
each morning
[we’re on the upswing now—
it only gets brighter
from here]
January 3, 2026
i sit here
pining and whining
and wishing and wanting
to call myself
a writer
and i know
i know
my goodness i know
that i am a writer
as soon as i write
and i sit down every morning
and compose poem
after poem
after poem
but this desire is different
i want to create whole worlds with
the tip of my finger/pen/brain
i want to carry an audience on
a whole-ass journey and lead them
from beginning
to middle
to end
what i’m saying is
i wish to write prose
story
script
screenplay
novel
novella
creative essay
anything
i could even do it in poetry
if it felt right
but all i write
are these tiny windows into my own soul
and morning
while day
and night
i have epics unfolding inside me
and the minute i dedicate
a minute
or hour
or day
to getting it down
on paper/document/screen/anything
my skill with words seems
so
elementary
so
amateurish
so
trying too hard and getting not far at all
and i give up after
a page
a paragraph
a word
but the want
it remains
January 2, 2026
down that coffee
chug that water
sprint down the stairs and
get ready for the day ahead
today
today
it will be
a day
[still kind of on
vacay
and spending time with kip
continuing traditions
and making new
and just do it
just get excited
and run run outrun the seasonal
depression
slowly invading your
head]
~~~
how come
this past
holiday season
i was unable to find
any
goddamn
candy canes
[of the candy cane flavor
variety]
?
[i found plenty
of skittles-flavored candy canes
and candy cane flavored
other things
but absolutely
zero
candy cane flavored
candy canes]
where did they all go?
has capitalism forced creativity
beyond our human wants and desires?
probably.
almost
definitely.
[well, at least our ai overlords
can enjoy the absurdity of our
‘ingenuity’
atop our burning bodies
after the world catches on fire
and the only water left
not contributing to coastal flooding
is being fed to them]
~~~
the problem
the problem
the problem is
i know
i know
i know our apocalypse
will be
so
so
so
slow
we won’t see it coming
we won’t acknowledge it here
we’ll just keep hoofing it to work
and buying our bagels
as our eyes slide past
broken infrastructure
and bodies in the street
until we’re about to be the body
and by then
it’ll be
too late
[and another person will walk past you
pretending
everything
everything
everything
is normal]
January 1, 2026
every day
i learn something new
or see something in a way i
never knew to look at
and perhaps that’s the point of being human
or at least the point
of calling myself
a poet
kipventures 