i am sitting
i am writing
i have nothing i need to be doing
at this exact moment
[plenty i should be doing
whenever i have the time]
but the animals are fed
and the kips are being watered
[by tea and coffee and actual water]
and i am trying something new
with my writing time

perhaps this could be a thing i do
every morning page morning

[but the point is to not plan
the point is not to plan
the point is not
the future

it is

now]

take stock in what is in this moment
the snow falling in big, fluffy flakes outside
the forced air heat in the kitchen blowing
the ambient music twanging from
our labeled “d20 speaker” so named for the
neon sign it is placed above

i take a sip of coffee
for the taste
but i probably should be sipping my water
for the hydration
for there’s a tickle in my throat
that i don’t know where it came from
[could have been passed to me,
could be the dry air around me
could be my allergy affecting me
in a whole different way this time]

the rumble of a plane
so low and loud both kips glance out the window
but it’s gone now

kip in their keith haring sweatshirt

me in my cozy yellow and black plaid sweater

the puppy, who devoured her breakfast, laying down right next to my chair

the cat is…somewhere…

and the music that has just come on is one i know from a film or something
and i am going to look to see what it’s called/who it’s by
so i can remember for the future
[though this poem is not about the future]
experience by ludovico einaudi
which i know from something in my past
that i can never quite remember
[but this poem is not about the past]

and i’ve already surpassed my word count goal
with only one [experimental-ish] poem
but this poem is not about the goals
or anything but
this moment

there are parts of thoughts in my head
that spin around endlessly
that go too fast for even me to see
and there’s another part of my mind
that is so damn quiet sometimes
that i don’t actually know
if there’s anything going on there
and perhaps they are both one in the same
that the fast thoughts go so fast
the blur makes them seem
nonexistent

[can ones own mind be too fast for even that person to catch up?
it seems counterintuitive
but also, we know so little about the human brain
and how thoughts and souls actually work
and we may never
but this poem is not about our own knowledge
or about what we may someday find
this poem is about finding
exactly what’s happening
in this
now]

the problem with an experimental poem
about the moment
is that the moment keeps going
so there is no concise way to end
other than just
stopping.