January 18, 2025

there’s something that i’d love to capture
in words and poetry
that i don’t know if i ever will
because i can’t really explain
even in sense memory
the vibes of the car ride
through protected valley park
and up into the city/suburb
that was my second home/
that i knew was my grandparents’ first home/
that my whole family had worked
or played at
or seen
at least once,
and how it kept that vibe
of excitement
and homecoming
for so long —
long enough that i can remember it
as an early early memory
riding in the backseat/
riding in the passenger’s seat/
driving myself/
knowing where i was going to
was where i belonged
even if i felt just a little out of whack with everyone
it was more like a phase shift
than a whole different universe
[like most of my life]
and i could get lost
in the flow of acting
or dancing
or singing
or hanging with friends
or creating something
or everything
and simply the anticipation
of arriving at a place
that i knew so well
and felt
was mine
that even the drive felt like
home

[and it’s actually very different now,
but last i was there
it still smelled the same]

August 14, 2024

driving past places
i’ve driven past
hundreds of times
and to see so many
unchanged
still there
on that road
made me feel
almost like i’m unchanged
and i’m still the me
from five years ago
living in madison
living for the now
and the potential
to make it as an actor
in nyc

what was i placed on this planet to be?

March 13, 2024

the focus isn’t necessarily not here today,
but it is wide and reaching and not necessarily on
the poem piece i’m in the moment making…

maybe it’s on a memory of years and years ago,
and wondering if that one person i interacted with
once
ever thinks fondly on their time helping me
decide what hot sauce i like best on my diner eggs
[i certainly think about them sometimes,
though i don’t even remember their appearance at all…]

maybe it’s on the moment i just had —
looking into the prism that spins rainbows around our house,
but when the sunlight directly flows through it
to ones eyes, one will be blinded in that spot
for approximately the time it takes to write
one stanza of one poem…

maybe it’s on my coffee
or my morning routine
or what i still have to do today
or what i’ll need to be doing later
or maybe my focus is just flitting around
the outsides of my figurative vision, waiting
for my peripheral to catch up with what i have already known
deep down
deep down.

December 4, 2023

keep going
keep running
someday
you’ll outrun
the pain
and the memories
and the flashbacks
and the reminders
and when you’ve finally gotten far enough away
then
and only then
can you fully feel the feelings without fear
(at least that’s what i hear)

May 16, 2023

flash of a memory
(why is it almost always driving)
rocky river to lakewood
bridge over the
metroparks valley
the color salmon pink
(was it a house?
an apartment building?
the color of the sky in sunset?)
riding along
early lessons
late hangouts
always right on time for rehearsals
the flat expanse of northeastern ohio
spreading a suburb out in front of my eyes
somehow gorgeous in its
midwestern gothic/
abandoning the american dream/
passenger seat
then driving, driving, driving
knowing a portion of that street so well–
but the memory starts farther back
a path i only drove a
handful of times
farther back
farther back
seeing the road i took
seeing the memories out in front
seeing to the side where my grandmother survived
(i wish i had asked her more questions about her life)
why are my memories
still so full of
other
memories?

February 13, 2023

i wish i had written more as a child
about what it felt like to be
those ages that i was–
it all felt so solid
inevitable
unchangeable
at the time

but now it slips my mind
i try to hold the grains of sand
as tightly as i can
and i have no specificity
just generic hazy memory
like things
vibes
of times
but i want the solid
the thought processes
the emotions (good and bad and in-between)
i want to remember
me

but instead i get this vague reaching
for who i used to be
and who i might
have grown
into

but none of this feels as solid
as writing does
now

so maybe that’s why i write
every day
even if it feels silly
or poorly crafted
or i don’t know what i’ll ever do with it
i need to find a way to look back
and identify myself
from years away

because sometimes i can’t even identify myself today

May 6, 2022

when doing something
‘cringe’
as an 18 year old,
i was so stressed out
that i wasn’t acting like an immediate adult
in every way

but when pondering those
‘cringe’
moments now, 10+ years later,
i am struck with how much of a gosh-darn baby
i still was.

[and ‘cringe’ is a social construct anyway]

[like gender]

[and time]

April 22, 2022

even though
it’s getting slightly easier
every day,
it sure is hard.

~~~

trying to write
about not Louka
(not because i don’t want to write about her,
but because i know
i’ll just let myself write about her
and be sad
for p much
the rest of my life
(/or i’ll write for so long
that the first day i do end up writing
about not her
i’ll feel so guilt-ridden
it’ll eat me from
the inside-out)

but i suppose i should appreciate
and admit
that she still is on my mind
and will be
for a long, long time,
and grief will be there
for almost as long,
and the best thing to do
for her memory
and my own sanity
is not to force
any
thing
(the forced stopping
is probably as bad as
the forced continuation
of poems solely about
Louka the Good Dog)

so, please, forgive me
as i ride this roller coaster of emotions,
the highs of the silly memories
and the lows of the guilt
of needing to make the choice for her
and her failing body
to let her go
across the Rainbow Bridge/
up to Dog Heaven/
transition to the next life/
the next body/
whatever happens
next,

and Louka,
please know,
our love is with you
always.

~~~

there are certain things
we haven’t done yet
and continue to not be able to do:

long walks
around the neighborhood,
meandering around
these streets/
up to the college/
saying hi to everyone else
walking,
taking the side path
from the backyard/door
to the front
(our path with Louka
because stairs weren’t great
for her old arthritis legs),
having bagels for breakfast again…

but there are some things
we are starting to do,
tentatively,
still with the presence of
Louka
in mind:
yesterday i tried to nap,
and though the cat is not quite as great
of a nap buddy
as the dog was,
she still stayed with me
until i drifted off to sleep
at least once,
and today we are listening to music
in the morning
once more
(though apparently it’s easier
to have music we’ve never heard before),
but it’s all still very hard
but we’ll make it through
with those memories of Louka
with us.

March 14, 2022

i don’t have
many memories
from childhood

an iconic moment here

a rush of emotion there

the things that i did all summer
bundled into one specific instance

mostly
{like my thoughts}
i have
vibes

generally
my memories
consist of the
aura
of childhood
of carefree freedom
imagination
the feeling of being
too big for that tiny body
to old for this world
(or maybe too big for this small world
and too old for that young body)

and as my memories age out
from childhood
to tween,
pre-teen,
teenage-hood,
young-adulthood
the memories get darker
angstier
and even the vibes
are less clear

the older i got
the swirlier the emotions became

until something happened
and i feel like i burst forth
from a cauldron of muck
and murky emotions
and became fully me

[when did that happen?
when i hit my stride in my early/mid 20’s?
when i chopped off all my hair
and started caring less
about what i was ‘supposed to’ be?
when i finally birthed myself out of the
strong-arm of academia?
when i met kip?
when i figured out i was non-binary?
when i started feeling more like i did
at 9?
(even though, emotionally, i do still have times/days/stints
of 19-year-old me?)]

memories are fickle
and i feel as though mine might be
fickler than most

but hey,
the vibes of my childhood,
overall,
they were simply
exquisite.