the puppy
refuses
to eat her own food
but the cat
is very ready
to eat it all for her
and then both animals
will have tummy troubles
today
the puppy
refuses
to eat her own food
but the cat
is very ready
to eat it all for her
and then both animals
will have tummy troubles
today
i would like the word “billionaire”
to have the same negative connotation
as other words that really oughtn’t —
like “bitch” or “cunt”
or even racialized words…
let’s take the social implications
and flip them on their head.
just leaning femme doesn’t make someone
hated
and someone’s race no longer invites
such hatred being
spat
it’s the power usurped or gotten through
inhumane ways
that needs to be a slur
that needs to be a slur
let’s make “billionaire”
a slur
until all mega-rich people
give philanthropically
until their billions are
‘mere’ millions
and
people don’t hope to be one
anymore
[and then maybe their power
in our ‘democracy’/oligarchy
will be
nil]
i haven’t done my regularly scheduled morning poetry
in days
because of social times
and busy-ness
and re-discovering art
and then
our poor puppy
having so much gi distress
we’re parents of a newborn
sleeping when she sleeps
and waking the moment she indicates
she may have
another accident
at least i can do things for my kip
like be ready with the wipes when they get back inside
or take one of the overnight outsides
so they can grab a little extra sleep
because at least i can nap during the day
they can’t
even without work
their day is
set
with awake
the puppy and i will nap on the same couch
we’ve been sleeping on for days
and again
even during the daylight
i’ll sleep when she sleeps
and be privy to her stirrings
immediately
a play
made of poetry
an art experience
guided by the muses
turning the mirror back on
the artist himself
a connection
with a group
who might just make new york
worth staying
if
we’re staying
i think
i was enamored
in the myth of celebrity
that i wanted the concept of me
as an artist
more than i wanted
to make the art
i could make
and now that i’ve turned my whole perspective upside down
and realized that celebrity might be a little [lot] too much for me
i’m so lost in terms of what kind of art i’d want to make
but the art still flows through my blood
and makes a home in my bones,
but do i treat celebrity like a goal
or a disease i’m to avoid?
or
[more likely than not]
do i try to concentrate on my art
and turn my head away from all celebrity
good
and bad
and just live in the art
that’s in my head/heart/body/soul/me
have you ever seen art
that makes you want to
be
a better artist?
that makes you want to
pry yourself open
and create the most honest art you can?
that makes you want to
be vulnerable
be truthful
be fully yourself
through your own art?
and
even though you don’t know necessarily how
you do know
it’s possible
because of someone else’s
great, honest, vulnerable, truthful
art
?
apparently
what i needed this morning
to feel a little more like
myself
was not writing
or poetry
or even coffee
it was a cat
purring as loudly as a geiger counter
on my lap
looking back on words
i’ve written before
[i’ve written just now]
and not believing
that was me
that was me
kip and i have been adding
“for the resistance”
to the end of any task we do
because keeping our
queer
mentally ill
trans
asses
alive
is 100% part of the resistance
so we are making bagels
for the resistance
and taking lovely walks
for the resistance
and playing video games
for the resistance
and writing poetry
for the resistance
and loving each other
for the resistance
and loving ourselves
for the resistance
it is resisting everyone who says we don’t belong
on this planet
that clearly holds us close
and loves us
that we do
for the
resistance
my massage therapist’s fingers
find space between my ribs
where before there was resistance
and knots
and no way of going through
and she breathes a sigh of relief
as my body returns to
what it should be
rather than holding all the stress
of the whole world
in my muscles
and knotting up the nerves along with it
and i walk away refreshed
but also, of course, worried —
how long will it take for my body to collapse back
to the shape it’s been in
for nearly a month now?
and will pain ever be a thing
i am
without?