how long
until
a change
is made
a change
that will
benefit
us all
not long
not long
not long
we chant
not long
not long
at all
how long
until
a change
is made
a change
that will
benefit
us all
not long
not long
not long
we chant
not long
not long
at all
March has come in
like the lion it is —
bringing one day of relief,
and then an evening of terror,
followed by a morning
where, once again, it hurts to open my eyes
outside
let’s hope it does
go out like
a lamb
the skies opened up and cried for Palestine
as we stood and listened and walked and chanted
and we can’t give up until all of us are free
no we can’t let go until we are all free
chunky flakes
floating
falling
flailing
from the sky-clouds
towards their kin
is march-month our snowy-winter now?
how are we
already
halfway through May?
(i blinked and April was gone)
but nothing will ever compare
to 2020
and the collective pressing of time
lasting forever;
that March that took
approximately eight years
to pass
and past that
i honestly don’t remember
anything
until June
(it was all March, you see)
i joke that
“time is a mortal construction”
because of a show i was in
(i was going to say once,
but technically it was twice)
and 2020 really showed us
how much of our society
really goes in to
how we perceive
the passage
of time
(and the abolishing of dst this year
did nothing to help the case
of time being anything near
concrete)
(i read once
that the only true marker
that we have
for time passing
is entropy,
all the rest of it
is simply our
perceptions,
so…)
~~~
why
do i
constantly fall into the trap
of thinking that
i don’t deserve
a “big
ol’
breakthrough”™
in my depression
if i’m not at
rock
bot-
tom
?
i’ve looked back at times
in my life
in my time
with this struggle
that seem pretty near,
but i recall clear
as day and night
are far apart
that those particular times
felt like i could always go
farther
down
depression
looks different
for different
people
so why can’t i get it through
my tick-ass skull
that rock bottom
would look different
for me
than other people?
i am not in a place
of rock bottom now,
that i can guarantee
to you and to me,
but i do feel plateaued
in a way i’ve felt
for years and years and—
–i also shouldn’t fall into the trap
of thinking that a plateau
deserves breakthroughs
any less
than a drop past the
“point of no return”™
so why
do i
find excuses
in every place
i find myself?
~~~
the puppy
wants so badly
to be friends with the cat
she sits
as calmly as her little puppy muscles can muster
and waits
for a sign of friendship
the cat, on the other hand,
simply hisses
and growls
and hides
and sighs
as the dog takes that all as signs
that the cat is conversing
and she excitedly talks back
in whining yips
and barking excites
‘come play with me!’
she seems to say
‘let’s be friends! please!? pleeeeeease!?!?!’
but the cat
is already
halfway
up the stairs
to hide just out of plain sight
or tuck herself deep under the bed
and the dog still whines
and climbs on the couch
to wait for her to show her face
in another hour or two
and the puppy whines start up again
and the hisses too,
and i hope one day
they do
actually
become friends
but today that seems…
damn near impossible
a whole host of
feelings
dreary
hungry
tired
that seem to
disconnect
me from feeling
any other things
[inspired
full-spirited
interest]
~~~
this winter seems to go on forever
except
unlike the Wisconsin winters
i’d been used to,
this one has a very
Cleveland flare:
stopping for a day or two,
letting the flowers in the yard
start to peak from the ground,
green stems pointing towards the sky,
before dumping another
few inches
or damn near
a whole foot
of freezing rain/hail/sleet/
pure snow
on us once more
(only to have all that
melt
in a matter of days,
and have the buds
begin
to emulate
full flowers;
colors in the back
side
front yards
before it all turns to white again
just for the green to stick out
over top)
the fight
over what season
March
should be.
~~~
what to write about
in mornings when i feel
the least like myself;
not even more sad
than my usual rainbow demeanor,
just too tired
to be
me
?
it feels
like spring
today
wild flowers
blossoming into
purple patches
on our lawn
it feels
like spring
today
no coat
necessary
for dog-
walking
it feels
like spring
today
yesterday’s rain
melds in
my nose
with other
nyc smells
to create
something
new
it feels
like spring
today
the spouse
planning a
garden
on each
terrace
in the
back
it feels
like spring
today
we all
sat/stood
in the
sunlight
absorbing it
knowing
that although
it feels
like spring
today
tomorrow
could be
a whole
different
story.
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)
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?
i’ve been involved
in many a Pride:
marching in the parade,
spectating,
only coming for the afterparty,
staying late,
leaving early,
volunteering,
forgoing because of work,
forgoing because of travel,
forgoing because of emotions,
huge Prides,
tiny Prides,
side Prides,
marching,
listening,
shouting,
chanting…
i’ve been lucky
to learn
beforehand
what i needed to know
to appreciate
each message,
each Pride.
i was introduced
through friends,
chosen family,
strangers,
the internet,
leaders,
who really was Marsha P. Johnson,
and i listened to Sylvia Rivera call us all out,
i learned of the sit-ins,
and the die-ins,
Act-Up,
papier mâché,
the quilt,
what Leather Daddies
and Dykes on Bikes
gave to the communities,
Stormé DeLarverie,
and so many more
i’m still learning about,
and even more
still unnamed
still faceless
who gave me the right
to fight for others’ rights
today
and i hope we continue to march,
that instead of forgoing Pride for comfort
we forgo Pride for Queer Liberation,
or at least include Queer Liberation
inside our Pride.
that we continue to march
for Black lives,
for Trans lives
for Black Trans lives
for a free Palestine
for disability rights
for a Pride
that supports us all;
sans cops
sans rainbow capitalism
supporting what Pride originally stood for
(not because i want to go back,
but because we really cannot go forward
until we are all truly free.)