split attention
books on audio
poetry on iPad
fevers and coughs and naps and care/on beds and floors and couches…
COVID finally this this house
(but only one human shows it)
covid-19
October 22, 2022
Fauci Ouchie
Rounds One and Two
were
adventures
i didn’t really write
about Booster 1
(would that be Fauci Ouchie Round Three?)
because
i actually felt that one
(just extreme tiredness,
but still)
and
things started opening up
too early
just like i foresaw
and getting the boosters felt
like a civic duty
and the least i could do
and everything
and nothing
and knowing
people weren’t doing it
just felt
like too
much
but now
i’ve Booster-ed twice–
Four Rounds
of Fauci Ouchies–
and i expect to get exhausted
and i expect to feel all the feels
and getting this was a hassle and a half
but there’s no way
i wouldn’t do it
because it isn’t about me
it was never about me
this is about
those folks
who can’t
and those folks
who remain sheltering in place
as people and corporations and governments
alike
decide
any life
is an
“acceptable loss”
and normies decided
that going back to ‘normal’
is better
(and easier)
than what we could be doing–
finding
something
different
and better
for everyone
(as we endure
the global pandemic
that is
STILL
raging)
(and in case you haven’t caught on
from how i put it in the words before
this little parenthetical here,
this poem is about
disabled people,
immunocompromised people,
chronically and currently ill people,
and people who don’t fit our society’s
very limited
standards of
“normal”
who deserve
all the accessibility
that we can ever
give them)
July 24, 2022
i didn’t think i would,
but i
felt *something*
while observing
curtain call
at that broadway theater
yesterday afternoon.
a little something
was the show itself—
pushing boundaries,
addressing hard topics,
calling in and calling out.
but another something
was simply seeing
human beings
on a stage
in front of hundreds/thousands—
a crowd
here to see
all Black faces and voices
and it being my
(technically accidental)
return
to seeing
live theatre…
auspicious?
inspiring?
fortuitous?
serendipity…
perhaps broadway is changing for the better?
—but—
while those feelings are definitely in there,
i think there was something else,
something additional…
a giant sense of
‘i didn’t let myself miss this
until right now’
i’ve missed the theater itself
physically
psychologically,
conceptually,
and i’ve missed performing on stage,
of course,
that’s in my blood—
but something in me missed
the actual
going to see
a good show
i didn’t know that about myself
until just now
and i’ll keep it
close
to my heart
July 5, 2022
i’ll never think flags
are dumb
again.
while there are flags for every
little
sexuality
gender
identity
feeling
fandom
these days
(even the different states in america have their own flag!
and cities!!
it’s getting ridiculous, guys…)
and the ‘meanings’ behind the colored stripes
i often find
a little forced
but
i know of multiple
*multiple*
people
(some i knew personally,
some i only heard their story from their mouth
over a little known
‘clock app’)
who, being non-binary, never felt ‘trans enough’
‘yes’ they’d think to themselves,
‘trans means someone who does not identify
as the gender they were assigned
at birth,
but i’ve had no transition
social/
hormonal/
surgical/
how does that really imply
*trans*-gender?’
and then they’d learn that the white stripe in the middle
of the trans pride flag
is for non-binary folks specifically.
‘i see myself in the trans flag’ their faces of delighted surprise seemed to say
‘i am trans enough—
i mean, i’m part of the damn flag!’
and i recently learned about the disability pride flag
(it had a re-design so those with sight sensitivities
could scroll and not be assaulted by the
zig-zag making strobe effects on their screens)
and i’ve been trying to do more research into the disability community,
one i admired from afar,
and read about,
and wondered if any of my strange nerve pains are
an invisible illness sneaking up on me,
or if my glasses are enough of a mobility aid to think of them as such,
or, still, if my depression/anxiety interrupt my day-to-day
in this world built for neurotypicals
to even imagine them as disabilities.
but in learning about the disability pride flag
and what those colors mean
and that blue stripe
right there
calls out mental illness—
very
obviously
states
that mental illness
is part
of the disability
community
and i have never breathed such a loaded sigh
of relief
of pride
of protection
of fear
of the weight of what it means
to be disabled in a culture
that would rather pretend a global pandemic
is over
than admit that disabled people
are bearing the brunt
of the deaths and tragedies from it
so
even though
i take on most of my mental illness
in isolation
(except for some poems
here and there
in this here daily poetry blog)
i’m starting to think of myself
as one who has community
rather than one
without
February 23, 2022
am i
((will i ever))
getting used to new york?
my new york?
the new york of constant facemasks,
and slightly less people around times square
(not that i’d ever want to go there),
and no real outings
yet;
but still the persistence,
the perseverance,
the resistance to unkind niceness
and unfounded stupidity
(not saying that isn’t around
it’s just,
as a whole,
here we are.)
and the problem with getting used to
a new york
mid-pandemic
is that, as disgusting as this city is,
i really don’t feel comfortable
or safe
anywhere else.
February 7, 2022
i keep pondering early in this
panini
when i wrote and wrote
pages upon pages
freehand
freeverse
free of other older morning page expectations
and i wondered what the world would be like
‘post’
pandemic…
and i felt it,
at the very core of my being
that we’d
‘go back to normal’
before it was really,
truly,
clear
to do so,
and that the ‘normal’
we were heading back towards
had the potential to change,
to be a ‘normal’ benefitting more people
than the normal
benefitting a very
very
very
tiny
percentage,
but i felt it,
that it wouldn’t change
we “couldn’t” change
we wouldn’t change.
and lo and behold
all my strife
from mid-march 2020
to april, may, june, july 2020
most of that has come to fruition:
we aren’t ready,
people are still catching
ventilizing
dying
and half the population is still
pretending
this virus
doesn’t exist.
and of course
we’re going
‘back to the grind’
as if that’s a good thing,
as if it’s strength
or a moral righteousness
that gets you through
(rather than random genetics
and generational privileges
and a system set up to benefit
the few)
and as if
this ‘grind’
is our entire culture
(i mean, at this point, it is,
but that doesn’t make it
good
or right)
and i wish i had something better to say
than ‘i saw this coming’
i mean, i’m sure folks more versed in
infectious disease
and sociology
and economy
and the ‘why’s’ of all this
also saw this coming…
i guess i just wish
i’d had more time
to live in a world of hope
than i actually got.
February 1, 2022
Fauci Ouchie
Round 3:
The Booster-ing
a whole walk
to and from
computer systems
being buggy
acknowledgement of
zero side effects the last two times
told to just go
(no sitting around rest required)
but
i probably should have
due to the [unrelated] stomach pains
that showed up that morning
that 15-20 minute walk
was the most precarious
15-20 minutes in my life
but i survived
to tell the tale
and the only effect of the shot itself
(so far)
is the tender soreness
at the injection site
(and the only effect
of the stomach pains
are loss of sleep
and a tragic aversion to coffee
i’ll soon rectify
because
of that loss of sleep)
January 24, 2022
we are now
well into
the third year
of living in new york city
and though i’m not where i thought i’d be,
the whole world isn’t where it thought it’d be
either.
the pandemic has really taken the onus
off my own head
for what i wanted to accomplish
when i got here,
and redirected my aims
not lower
just sideways-er,
from theatre/circus/maybe film
to voiceover/film/maybe circus
(and a little activism in there
because how could you not be
when looking at
this world)
and theatre…?
who knows what will happen
within this third year
(within these next few months/weeks/days)
but i do know that
governmental policies (or lack thereof) really left the public
out in the cold
at the very beginning
of this whole ordeal
and haven’t been able to rectify
that harm
(nor have i seen much in the way of trying)
and i shouldn’t have expected any better
but man
do i want
to trust
that people
will do the right things,
but power seems to corrupt
even the
best of us…
but
i was talking about
living in new york city
and my life here
(or lack thereof)
and all i have to say is,
though i don’t think i ever really got
the ‘true’
living in nyc experience,
i still suspect
i couldn’t live
anywhere
else.
January 13, 2022
i’m so nervous
about today
a new circus place
another chance to move my body
(how does my body move now?
now that i’ve had months and months off from any apparatus,
now that i’ve had over a year away from consistent, daily training,
now that the virus has changed every thing we do
now that the virus has not infected me, but the fear of humanity
constantly
doing wrong
that has infected me,
and i have symptoms daily:
a brain fog of unknowns of who may be smart
and who may be stupid,
tightness in the chest from seeing
that some
would rather sacrifice
[eugenicize]
the weak/old/disabled
as if they’re barely even numbers
(instead of whole human people),
the headache of suspicion that
there is a way to do this correctly
and our country/community/society
just
hasn’t,
the nausea
from knowing
that those in charge
worship money
before any worker
and that they think of people as pawns
to gather them more hoards of money
than they can do anything with in one lifetime,
and, of course, the whole body aches
of observing
the elected officials
i helped put into office
not being held accountable,
i want to hold them accountable,
but they aren’t even listening to those
more outspoken
more knowledgable
more persuasive in their passions
than i’ll ever be
so i’m left
with this
covid despair
this pandemic of existentialism
this disease of caring so much
that you circle all the way around
and start to care
not at all)
(but you do,
you know you do,
you’ve just numbed
the symptoms,
the disease is still
there.)
January 8, 2022
too tired to write anything
of substance
too word-play-y
to not,
stuck in a limbo
of will i won’t i
(a new take on ‘will they won’t they’)
(get it, cuz i’m nonbinary and use they/them pronouns)
listening to music from the
‘Roaring 20’s’
so what are we?
‘The Coughing 20’s’?
‘The Dying 20’s’?
‘The Denying and Closing our Eyes and Covering our Ears and Screaming “[B]LA[B]LA[B]LA”
Over All the Signs
and Words of Learned Folks
and Science
20’s’?
i wish i had the compassion of
Amanda Gorman
the faith in people of
Anne Frank
the calmness and knowledge and belief
of so many
but i am caught between
i want to see the good
and
i can only see the bad
played
over
and
over
and
over
again
behind my eyelids
every time they close
(and most of the time while they’re open,
too)
i know i’m doing little
to halt/hold/stop the division
of one side
‘gainst the other,
but it’s hard to listen to folks
who’d never listen to me
were i to show them my true self,
who argue that folks like me
are a disease unto society
and deserve the worst of death.
if you can’t look at me like a human
then why should i listen to you
like your opinions have any say
in my living my own life
in my own honest way
(maybe this is why
it’s so important
to look inwards
for spirituality
as opposed to outwards)
but this poem
is kind of a mess,
but it is morning
so i can mull through
my thoughts of the day approaching
and get them all out of my fingertips
and onto this blank page/document/screen
for all to see
(or at least the six of you who usually read)
(hi, by the way)
and the poem doesn’t ~need~ to mean anything
it can just be,
a product of my brain,
my overthinking-
obsessive compulsive tendency-
pessimist in the body of an optimist-
-brain,
and leave it
for whomever may need it
(which might just be me
needing to get it out
in order to write
other things)
kipventures 