May 15, 2025

perhaps you wake up one day
and the sky is purple instead of blue

still the same brightness — no sunrise or sunset vibes
making the change, though many things may adjust
from your point of view — like are you near a body of water?
look at it, it’ll reflect the sky, and you’ll realize
in that moment, that the ocean is not, in fact, blue,
or even any color on its own,
but a simple showing back of
the sky above it

but

no one else remarks on the suddenness of the purple in the sky
and when you see a game show with simple questions
or shadow your niece’s kindergarten class
the correct answer to “what color is the sky”
is “purple!” every time

so what now?

do you ask someone about it?
do you try to sleep it off?

do you check your own kindergarten worksheets
dug up and pulled down from your parents’ house’s attic?
there, in your own handwriting, is “purple”
and even poems you wrote ages ago
where you rhymed “blue” with “true” at the end of a stanza
put forth the same rhyme scheme, but with purple in the middle
“the sky’s purple hue/makes my heart beat true”
and it works
better than
“blue”

do you take this to your therapist
crossing your fingers behind your body
that it won’t be enough to get you committed
again?

how long has your reality strayed from everyone else’s?

is everyone else under an illusion now?
were you picking up nonreality for twenty-seven years?

why
why
why
is this happening?
to you?

you wait

and perhaps

you never get an answer…

May 6, 2025

spectacular
spectacle
and spectacles help us all
see
wonders
in our own
and each others’
eyes

for once
for twice
for as many times
as we might find a rhyme
and/or reason
to climb
and explore
and discover
and become
one
with some sort of
happiness
[if we can
if we can]

~~~

there’s still a bit of
misalignment
when it comes to
my own self
and my poet self

and i cannot tell if that’s because
i don’t perform my own poetry enough
that it becomes as second nature as
acting
or aerial
or simply listening
but my own poetry
i have to remind myself
‘i made this
and it isn’t
half
bad’

~~~

or perhaps it’s because
i’m all self-taught
and i’m just flying by
the seat of my pants
and i can’t totally tell
what works and what’s a fail
except that
some poems flow like water
and some drip like sludge
and every now and then
i find a rhyme that tastes as good as it sounds
but i don’t know how i found any of that
it just happens
through trial and error
every
single
time

like i’m always starting
from one

January 12, 2022

{unknown}
what i want to write
{unknown}
what i want with my life
{unknown}
what decision to make from
a life
rife
with greatness
and gloom,
elation
and existential dread…

speak what my mind
wanders to wonder
about day to day,
week to week,
(second to second,
why am i always second in my actions
but the only thing on my mind?)

{experiment
unknown
until
something makes sense}