i think
and think
and think and think and think
and i plan poems while outside
walking with my good dog
and yet,
after pre-bed rituals,
and cajoling animals upstairs,
and leaving the video player window
on this here computer,
and entering the blank document space,
as soon as i’m ready
set
get to writing
all things
(and thinks)
have left
and i’m left
with
writing about writing about writing about writing about…
[you get the picture]
can i please put
my hedonism
in regular life
[‘the world is falling apart
and we’ll all die eventually,
so have the chocolate!’]
into my career goals/tries?
can i please put the patience
i have with my animals
[‘it’s ok, Louka, if you need to stop
every five feet,
take your time—
there’s no set schedule to follow’]
into my view of
industry
success?
can i please put my love
for so many people
[‘i know what it’s like to feel
so
damn
awful,
i just want to show you
a little bit of love
while we’re in each other’s lives’]
to myself?
please???
peppermint candy cane
leaking onto my tongue
and the prospect of a year
just barely begun
and the lofi beats
ringing in my ears
and the concept of dreams
fulfilled in place of fears
and one more stanza
to make this poem full
though rhyme schemes are for squares
maybe i can pull
this one off
[[guess not]]
what is it about
early early morning in New York
that i love so much?
is it the quiet?
i wouldn’t be happy
elsewhere
where it’s
quieter,
but there is something about
expecting the cacophony
and getting the simplicity
the silence of the grandiose,
the liminal space
between the raucousness of nightlife
and the blaring consciousness of daytime
i am always one for the unexpected
i live to break rules
and realities
and that,
i think,
is why i love early early morning
in the city
that says it never sleeps
(but i’ve seen the empty streets.)
for the last
several
years
Kip and i have made
no new years resolutions,
we’ve simply made
new years goals.
and i think
for this
twenty twenty, too
we are just aiming
to survive.
time
sure is
a measurement
of
whatever
that was
and whatever
this will be.
the balance
of yin and yang
(Kip and Kip)
is to have the one
be
stressed out of their mind
working all day
(during vacation)
snappy,
trappy,
not happy,
and the other
enjoying
Repair Shop
and
audiobooks
and leisurely cross-stitching
all damn day…
~~~
went to bed
with an ache
that could have been the universe
reaching into me
to warn me
of something devastating approaching
or
it could have been
empathic absorption
of my spouse’s stress.
(when will i find out which?)
~~~
no,
please don’t eat the chocolate,
or the dog’s food,
or sleep on needles,
or rub yourself all around in cedar spray
or-
-what did i just say about the chocolate?!
[this cat]
wow…
things that used to be
oh so
“normal”
really are looking
absolutely bonkers
now.
it’s getting close
to the end of the year
and i’m overwhelmed
by how much
and how little
happened this
twenty twenty-one.
~~~
wordplay
play with the
prefixes
suffixes
rhymes
(internal
and
external)
believe
in
beliefs
and skew slant down
to the ground
just to raise it up
let it rise
bake the pies
see with eyes
how silly words
can play just as well
and a scheme isn’t needed
as necessary as you well
know it
blow it
up
up
up
and let it fly
away.
~~~
let
Imperfection
sit.
i’d like to know
how
people do it:
accept the cycles of the earth
without resistance;
the changing of the seasons,
the darkening of days,
the yearly reminders
of time.
i try,
and i understand
logically
that this is how it goes;
there is no stopping
or halting
or pausing
or slowing
or adjusting
but still…
cycles make me sick.
i’ve never been able to accept them
internally,
so i’m certainly not going to be passive
about them passing
externally…
(i feel like i have a better way of explaining this
somewhere up my sleeve,
but right now
“cycles make me sick”
is the only thing i can register
as really getting across
what i have to say,
so i’ll stop here
and try to remind myself
that even the planet needs rest time,
and while time may not be
linear,
humans’ experiences of it is pretty near,
and maybe the problem is
i was simply built for another planet,
or at least another climate…)
kipventures 