oreos for breakfast
maybe not the healthiest choice
but at least my mouth
is happy
oreos for breakfast
maybe not the healthiest choice
but at least my mouth
is happy
when trees
sway
[unnaturally] up and
down
my mind still speeds straight
to costa rica
and expects little back-and-white monkeys
to be playing
chattering
jumping
from tree to tree
even up here in the bronx
my first thought is never
the black and grey squirrels we have everywhere
my hope
is first
that we’ve somehow found ourselves
back
in paradise…
will i ever write
anything as honest
in the daylight hours
as i do near midnight
just before
sleep
takes me?
~~~
meditate
on the self
to escape from
the pressures
of the other
(but don’t blame the people–
they’re just trying to survive
just like you–
but how do we escape the systems
that are built
to trap,
hinder,
distance,
and depress
?)
~~~
how well do you know yourself
and your patterns
of self-sabotage?
~~~
these poems are starting to sound
a little angsty
but i swear i’m not in
a teen mood™ —
i’m just trying to find my footing
for a morning
after a morning
away
~~~
i have enough poetry
to always have something new
to slight-of-hand any reader
into thinking
i never miss a day
of writing
but i’m too honest for that jazz
so here i am
keeping my streak
but also writing poems
about skipping days
and i don’t know what that says
about me
(and if i should be thinking about that
anyways)
~~~
interesting
watching oneself
write poetry–
a line i thought
would negate/lessen
the last line
makes it feel
so much fuller
than before
i suppose that’s why i’m out here
writing poetry
every day
for 500+ days
as opposed to
studying
and analyzing
and obsessing
and perfecting
a thing
that comes
from the heart
[perhaps i should take that into account
in other aspects
of my life…]
it’s funny how
both in real life
and on screen gaming
all my plants are
over-watered
(though
to be fair
if we had a more
humidity-full house,
i wouldn’t feel the need
because the moisture
would be
in the air)
(i have no explanation
for the video
game
plants)
the puppy
and the cat
are not mortal enemies
they may, in fact
simply be
frenemies
(though,
perhaps
that’s all from the cat’s
perspective
the puppy
100% believes
they’re besties
or at least could/should be.)
i’d just like to write
the short poems
with the huge payoffs
a la Rupi Kaur
there is a house plant
i was certain was dead
so i tucked it outside
just to get the sadness out of my head
but the plant,
with natural sun and rainwater grew
from the tiniest sickly shrivel
to four full leaves popping through
that isn’t to say
the outside is always a sanctuary
(our peach tree and hydrangea
can attest to that theory)
but i suppose what’s here,
the moral to this story and the full truth,
is that sometimes all you really need
is naturally occurring on our Mother Earth
how do i have
so much energy in my mind
to overthink and overanalyze
and ponder every possible situation
and make guesses at past and present and future
and enough energy in my body
to speedwalk past the average New Yorker
take multiple circus classes a day
stretch and handstand and run after trains
but emotionally
i’ve been out of energy
since i was at least thirteen?
Hey Void,
How are you?
I’m sorry i’ve assumed
i’d need to scream into/at you
in order to make my way
on the internet/
to stake my claim/
to have some sort of opinion/writing/something
out there…
But if i could get to know you
maybe i wouldn’t feel so self-conscious
about the futility
of all this writing,
maybe my poems
could all be love letters
to The Void.
That is,
if you’ll have me
if you’ll accept my love
(because i wouldn’t want to
do anything
without consent)
Love(?),
HJ
~~~
My Dearest Void,
Working under the assumption
that you’ll accept my letters
(you needn’t accept my love,
not yet),
i’d like to let you know
that being a human
is pretty hard sometimes.
How is it being
The Void?
Do people get upset at you,
like i once did?
Or are people learning
to trust in you,
to speak gently,
to respect you
and your ways
fully?
Hope to hear back from you
soon,
HJ
~~~
Hi Again, Void
Just wanted to say hello.
That’s all.
Nothing expected.
Nothing to be returned/reciprocated.
Just a hello/
a greeting
to you,
My/The
Void
~HJ
the heart wants
what the heart wants
but the brain and body can be
so
suspicious
lazy
resistant
ennui-ed
[a poem about why i’ve wanted to sew
for literal months
but haven’t done a stitch]