writing about bagels
and reading about bagels,
reading about reviewing bagels
and writing about bagels once more
all thew while making/eating/pondering
bagels
it’s been a very bagel-y couple of days
[but when is it not
in New York City?]
March 18, 2022
“bagels…” we whisper
wistfully
into the air
towards the sky
aiming at the heavens
hoping the bagel gods
will grant us
everything
we desire
March 17, 2022
my sense of self
has never grown
past the age of the trauma
and while i’ve continued to wade through
life
and experiences
past eleven years old,
the photographic evidence proves nothing.
as that isn’t me.
can’t be.
maybe that’s why it felt so good
to change my appearance
so drastically;
the old ‘look’ was simply a shadow
of who i imagined i was,
a poorly made copy
adding weight
and height
and unnecessary curves
and worry in the heart and mind
but maybe this me
recreated like a phoenix from the ashes
of who i thought i’d be
can be the one who finally
stands in front of the small
blonde
little [girl]
in a frilly dress
and skinned knees,
and they can look this
non-binary adult
with rainbow hair
and gender-euphoria pants
and at last say
with confidence
and ownership
and love
“that’s me!”
March 16, 2022
quiet the mind,
shush the brain,
but don’t force the silence
because then that’s all that remains.
i wonder if that’s why others’ poetry
takes longer to write;
because rhythm/rhyme/meter
don’t all happen in one night,
or just one setting,
like sitting in this morning page sun
listening to Japanese hip-hop lofi
and just kinda ~wish~ my scheme into one
sentence
then another
and another
and losing track
and losing steam
and losing the scheme
i [vaguely] thoughtfully put in here
and hearing the rhymes in my head
but only scattered/stilted/disjointed/
disappointed
i continue on
disrupting any complex pattern that might have arisen
so i can continue on this mess of a poem
and pretend that’s just
How I Write
(instead of
how
i think)
March 15, 2022
writing
a thing
but not the way i want to be
writing it
not in the way i’ve imagined
saying it
not in the context and meter and rhythm i’ve
dreamt it
and i’m hesitating words in a way i
never do
is this all some sort of quandary
of feeling ‘off’
simply because my coffee is hot
[[not
iced]]?
March 14, 2022
i don’t have
many memories
from childhood
an iconic moment here
a rush of emotion there
the things that i did all summer
bundled into one specific instance
mostly
{like my thoughts}
i have
vibes
generally
my memories
consist of the
aura
of childhood
of carefree freedom
imagination
the feeling of being
too big for that tiny body
to old for this world
(or maybe too big for this small world
and too old for that young body)
and as my memories age out
from childhood
to tween,
pre-teen,
teenage-hood,
young-adulthood
the memories get darker
angstier
and even the vibes
are less clear
the older i got
the swirlier the emotions became
until something happened
and i feel like i burst forth
from a cauldron of muck
and murky emotions
and became fully me
[when did that happen?
when i hit my stride in my early/mid 20’s?
when i chopped off all my hair
and started caring less
about what i was ‘supposed to’ be?
when i finally birthed myself out of the
strong-arm of academia?
when i met kip?
when i figured out i was non-binary?
when i started feeling more like i did
at 9?
(even though, emotionally, i do still have times/days/stints
of 19-year-old me?)]
memories are fickle
and i feel as though mine might be
fickler than most
but hey,
the vibes of my childhood,
overall,
they were simply
exquisite.
March 13, 2022
internally
raw
worn
torn
injured
maybe bleeding
(maybe healing?)
~~~
i look at the the date
“happy manniversary!” i tell my kip
“i didn’t do anything…” they say, as their face falls
from their initial surprise-joy
“it’s ok” i say, hoping to turn the mood
from sadness
to a dark humor
that will also then
bring us down
again
to all that’s been:
“two years ago today
we were
~supposed~ to be seeing
Hadestown.”
we laugh
and sigh
and continue on inside
as the pandemic still goes on
(as much as folks pretend it isn’t
with lax guidelines
and ignoring science
and pleas from healthcare workers
falling
not on deaf ears
but on those that simply
wish not to hear)
outside.
~~~
my poetry this morning
seems to be coming from a different place
a place of allowing
the cacophony
and angst
to broil itself down
to the basics
of words
and feelings
and leaving
them all
on the page[screen]
[[[for once]]]
March 12, 2022
a whole host of
feelings
dreary
hungry
tired
that seem to
disconnect
me from feeling
any other things
[inspired
full-spirited
interest]
~~~
this winter seems to go on forever
except
unlike the Wisconsin winters
i’d been used to,
this one has a very
Cleveland flare:
stopping for a day or two,
letting the flowers in the yard
start to peak from the ground,
green stems pointing towards the sky,
before dumping another
few inches
or damn near
a whole foot
of freezing rain/hail/sleet/
pure snow
on us once more
(only to have all that
melt
in a matter of days,
and have the buds
begin
to emulate
full flowers;
colors in the back
side
front yards
before it all turns to white again
just for the green to stick out
over top)
the fight
over what season
March
should be.
~~~
what to write about
in mornings when i feel
the least like myself;
not even more sad
than my usual rainbow demeanor,
just too tired
to be
me
?
March 11, 2022
today
is day
333
of my streak
and three is my favorite [base] number
of which i base all my other favorite numbers off
whether they include a three
[as in 13, my ‘official’ favorite number]
or are divisible by it
[as in 9 and 27, which i also especially love
because
their division includes other threes]
i adore any and all ‘threed’ numbers,
and 333 is three threes-
how energizing
how beautiful
how apt…
(…so why can’t i use that energy
to bolster my creativity
or make me feel
like i’m not
miserable
this morning?)
March 10, 2022
emotions
swirling
around
scattered and unfounded
(at least half of them)
~~~
do i want to
do work
then
be creative,
or can i
somehow
find the creativity
inside the work?
~~~
all the possibilities
and none of the
decision-making confidence.
~~~
all?
or none?
or some?
now?
or later?
or combine?
or alone?
or is it even worth it?
~~~
i wish i remembered what it was like
to find my path of thought
through
the poetry at my fingertips
instead of
halting
phrases
catching
words
tiny poems
barely scratching the surface
of all that’s underneath
this rainbow hair…
~~~
if i trace the keyboard
gently
will it make the words come easier?
will the emotions be quantifiable
and able to be categorized
and boxed up
and shipped out
to future me
to deal with
in a different [head]space?
kipventures 