february has already lasted
a hundred years
when will this longest short month
be over?
February
February 1, 2026
it blows into february
the air of awful anticipation on its wing
the cold burning even colder
than january’s sting
at least there’s snow
from the first month’s storm
whitening the ground
providing [minimal] distraction
from second month’s
curse
February 27, 2022
almost done
with the worst month
(though, to be fair, i have learned to admire parts of
february:
i get to learn so much about Black/African American culture and history,
i get to find folks who i admire
and they readily send out their paypals
and venmos
and cashapps
so i can compensate them for their education,
give my tiny portion of reparations,
i find lists of lists of artists/stores/crafters/everything
to use not only this month
but for birthdays
and holidays
and no-reason-needed gift-buying,
the amount of color coming across my screen
in february
is truly gorgeous
and i make sure to like for the algorithm
and follow for my own list
so it can stay that way
year ‘round.)
(the only other part of february
i truly enjoy
is that it is so close to the new year
that everything still feels pretty possible;
the resolutions not dropped
seem so much closer to becoming
reality
but there’s still time,
being only month two,
to re-start any failed habits
(or pick up ones that weren’t obvious
on 1/1)
)
otherwise,
worst month.
cold.
bleak.
not nearly as exciting as january
about it being a new year.
the days and dates the same as march
so my maybe-adhd/maybe-dyslexic/maybe-something-else brain
continues to suffer
the past experiences
of switched months,
the embarrassment
and shame
and confusion as i carefully read the month
but still end up wrong.
and you may think that the shortness of it,
the 28 days as opposed to 30+
would be a relief,
but that is
far
from the case:
i had so much i wanted to accomplish
this month
and now i’m running out of february days
in which to accomplish it;
normally the 27th would indicate a close to the end
but you still have time
dates
days
to next month,
but no,
tomorrow is the last day
to accomplish
anything
great
in february
so fuck february
thank goodness it’s almost over
but also
why did it go by so fast?
February 13, 2022
yesterday
Kip and i walked outside sans coats,
and built a greenhouse on our deck,
and swept away dead leaves,
and soaked up the sun
as long as we could
(and still a little longer)
knowing that
February 50-degree weather
lasts not nearly as long
as most would like…
and lo and behold,
this morning we woke to
giant, wet snowflakes
dropping from the sky,
piled high on the greenhouse,
and packed atop the steps
kip had so painstakingly ridded of leaves
less than twelve hours prior.
but we still walked
(with coats)
and kip built a tiny snow-person
and the sun didn’t shine as brightly through the snow-clouds,
but i suppose this is the point
of living somewhere
with cycles of weather
that come and go;
so you remember to enjoy the sun
when it arrives…
and it will arrive
again
soon.
February 3, 2022
still don’t know what the groundhog said
guess i could look it up
(even tho it has very little to do with anything real,
but we all need a distraction these days, right?)
six more weeks of winter
(as opposed to ‘early spring’)
but six more weeks isn’t terrible;
the full month of February
(which is annoying, but expected)
and then half of March
(March, which lost its status as
‘normal month’ way back in 2020;
i don’t think i’ll ever look at another
March
the same way again)
but i think,
i *think*
i can do it.
~~~
most mornings
the sunlight blazes through
our east-facing windows,
catching in our eyes
as we sit to write
morning pages and morning poems
and things of that nature
and the shine is so great
that half my computer screen
fades to white
and generally
we put up with it
for the warmth
(and for the plants)
but this morning
the sun is barely making itself known
through these dense clouds
bringing with them rain
and drear
and we miss that sun
not just the warmth
but also the light
the indication of daytime
the blasting through our senses
waking us up
in a way
that only coffee comes close
to imitating
~~~
i keep wanting/desiring/being drawn to the
writing
of tough stuff
in the evening
but in the morning
when i have more wherewithal
to contemplate
the complicated
my aversion to tackling
the ‘tough stuff’
grows
exponentially
(but maybe one of these mornings)
(or maybe one of these days i’ll just have to
write
in the eveningtime)
January 31, 2022
it’s about to be
That Time:
February.
in a non-leap-year,
February and March
have the same date attached
to the same day of the week,
and this messes me
the fuck
up.
i’ve missed more appointments
than i care to admit
scheduling them for February
when i thought i’d scheduled them for March,
and more than a few
shown up too early
seeing the day and the date come up
in the second month of the year
just to have them actually be
in the third.
i know ‘reading the date more carefully’
is a way around this,
but sometimes my eyes see
exactly what they want to see
instead of what is
(and especially within this
year three
of a global porcupine ,
where concentration is lacking
in most of us
due to collective trauma
observed
[directly or indirectly]
day in
and day out
and day in
and day out
and my only saving grace
last year
was that nothing needed to be scheduled
during these months;
resurgences,
and my own clumsy injuries,
and the cold outside,
and my own seasonal depression…
i hid through most of the winter,
hibernated the initial instance of
‘Tuesday the first’
away)
but
i’m trying to be more proactive
more energized
more engaged
this year
so i’ll read
and re-read
and re-re-re-read
and have my spouse check
the dates of things
(or just not schedule anything
non-consistent
at all)
(i mean, hey,
there’s a reason i scheduled my booster
for today,
the last day in January,
a date i won’t even see
for another
fifty-nine
days)
and maybe
just maybe
this therapy
of breathing
and taking my time
and forgiving myself
my past errors
is [could be] helping?
February 5, 2021
running out to the sidewalk
big chunks of snow falling
pockmarking the small white hills,
the yellow of a taxi cab
shining
in the not-quite-twilight of
5:45 pm
on a february friday,
the haze of pink-ish-purple
lighting the sky
in that way that
only an NYC dusk truly can,
my eyes adjusting to clearer vision,
happy
(for once)
to exist.
kipventures 