oh no
this green tea in the morning
is real nice
i don’t know if it’s
the warmth
as the outside is
so damn cold
or if it’s
simply having tea
which i know may help
decrease this
inflammation
or if it’s
doing something
different
with my morning
or a factor i haven’t found yet
but this tea is
real nice
right now
kip playing with music
a whole set up here at our
kitchen table
and something in me wants to create
is it music?
am i ready to hear my own voice
echoing back from me
via vocoder at least?
or am i more in the physical scheme
and want to cut and trim and sew and see
what kind of creation i can make with
my own two hands
or am i finally ready to write that book
i’ve been threatening to write
forever and a half
or is it the video series
or a play
or silly skits
on social media
[probably not that last one
if my mental health is any key
or indication, having done so well
these past few months
without
that curse looming over me
via my phone…]
[who knows]
[who knows]
december is really hitting me like
a ton of bricks
being transformed quickly into feathers
[i still have some bruises, and some pokes,
but all in all it’s the suffocating stuffing that’s
hitting me rather than the pounding of existential pressure, so
at least that’s…
different]
how does one make a monstera thrive?
do you actually need to trim
the biggest leaves?
or is it a bigger pot that i need
to hold in all these trailing vine-roots
as they escape their confines
and go searching for something to climb?
or is it simply the air around us
better humidified would do it?
or maybe a spritz of water once
or twice
a day?
i mean, my monsteras are all fine
they’re doing
fine
but i really
desperately
want them to
thrive
you know
you’re probably
doing something not quite right
when you
have to
schedule yourself to “maybe just chillax”
in your
to-do list.
is it just last night’s sleep?
is it something in the air?
is it an allergy?
is it the depression?
or is it the actual date of today
that’s making me feel
this
type
of
way?
sitting down to write
and not feeling the immediate
“i have to eat”
“i have to use the restroom”
“i have to do anything other than
write right now”
and i don’t know what to do with that
how to use it —
all the possibilities are before me
spread out
mapped and tangled and crumpled from
viewing but disuse
and i simply want to write
something
something
something
to make myself feel
like i’ve used my
one wild and wonderful brain
sometimes
when i don’t know what to write
i’ll just lightly tap my fingertips
against the keyboard
i don’t press any of the buttons down
it’s not to make any sort of mark
on the electronic page
rather
i’m trying to shake creativity loose
from my fingers, hands, arms,
body —
i’m trying to rain down onto the keyboard
and maybe one of these puddles
will create words
that i can splash into
and from which
i can start
a poem
it is december
it is december
i’m allowing myself these
twenty-five to thirty-one days
of holiday feeling
[perhaps it’s a mistake,
but,
in nyc i believe
i am not beholden to old memories —
this city makes new ones all the time
and i can learn from all of that
and all of those
and have an nyc holiday season
instead of suffering from memories
of midwest christmases
long since passed]
a poem
to center
not distract
a poem
to wake up
not relax
a poem
to get the brain
the body
the mind
the soul
going
a poem
to bring me into
this world
this day
this moment of time
into
maybe even
myself
a poem.
kipventures 