interesting when i write a poem
and can feel the subject matter/concept
has something there, but that the poem itself
is a rough rough rough first draft, like i know
i’ll have to re-write and maybe even re-re-write
but the subject
and a few lines
of this first try
are usable
and i don’t feel the overwhelming failure
that a ‘not good enough’ poem usually brings me,
because this is simply an opportunity
to write it out better/more accurate/in a way that everyone
might
identify with me and understand.
human connection
July 18, 2023
tho no one
likes
the un-airconditioned train
i still smile to myself
every time a new group enters
and makes the same
“awww, nahhh/no!”
when they realize
the car they’ve chosen
will only increase
the nyc heat
it’s the little moments that show —
we are more alike than we are different
June 11, 2023
i don’t know if i was born
with the patience gene fully turned on
or not,
but it has developed into something
i value greatly
in myself
however
because i don’t think of it as
a core marker/
a makeup of hj/
something that’s been with me
since that first day,
i often approach it as a skill —
something that needs practice/
cultivation/
that i can’t just rely upon —
and it often surprises me
when others thank me for my patience
when i’ve been feeling
so
at the end of my rope
i wish i could conceive of a me
who was always always always
patient without strain
June 10, 2023
touch gently
[with just one fingertip]
a whole life
with patience
with care
with love
with listening
with attention
with intention
and you’ll know what it is
to be
truly
human
and alive
December 7, 2021
there’s an ache
in old poems
that i think i’ve lost…
the words falling out of my brain
hold in them a pain
of trying to find some sort of connective
tissue
through
to others in this stupid experiment we call
human
existence
and what happens when everything becomes
happenstance
what becomes of the worlds words once i built
brick by brick
letter by letter
when the better /half/ of me
plays into capitalism
to make our lives a bit
stabler
i read old
lines
older
stanzas
and a common thread appears
a subtle but strong undercurrent
to understand and be understood
(and might i still have that
now?)
