August 22, 2022

i am often obsessed
with the temporary temporality of things
having seen what i thought to be permanent
snatched from me in less than a moment
while my eyes were blinking
while i turned away…

i’ve heard a great calmness can come
from seeing where you are
in the “grand scheme” of the universe
and admitting to
the smallness of self.
but for me, it was always about control—
the bigger the universe,
the harder it would be to put my mark on it
and i’ve always admitted to expecting from myself
the impossible.

but just now
i saw my two anxieties
come together in a release:
this home we love
and fill with stuff that does spark joy
is temporary
and someday it will be gone
and our sun will explode
and this planet will become nothingness once more
so it doesn’t really matter
if we put a bunch of mismatched plants around our windows
to give ourselves some tiny fraction of dopamine,
it doesn’t matter if we have
the cleanest house or
the perfect background for tiktoks or not;
whatever brings us joy
in this moment
is all that matters
because it could be gone—
it will be gone eventually—
so this moment
is all that matters
this moment
is all that matters
whatever makes us happy
and enjoy this planet
in this moment
is all that matters

(and if we leave the planet
a little better
a little more sustainable
a little bit happier
for the generations to come,
not only will that give to others,
it will also set
our souls
at ease
far more than the stress of
being a household name
or keeping everything given
or being perfect in anything at all
would
in this moment
in future moments
in any moment.)

March 22, 2022

capture
the way
poetry
made you feel;
say
the phrases
only you
could come up with
within your big [fat] brain
(we all thought that was hilarious
way back in grade three:
‘you have lots of fat in your head,
if someone calls you a fat-head
say “thanks, it’s true!”’
so thanks, Bill Nye,
for giving us both an insult
and rebuttal
in one educational episode)

but the words
and flows
don’t flow
the way they ought
they used
to
they should
too
be calling from my mind
climbing
clambering
to come out
like i once came out
no, wait,
twice
came out
first from the closet
then from the binary
and finally,
maybe someday,
i’ll just come out from expectations set upon me
through old traditions
and new
and if i only knew
how to come out from under my own
oppressive
thumb
how free could i be?

but
the feral cat is still meowling
somewhere
outside
and the music is making
both myself
and my spouse
subtlety sway side to side
and the coffee hasn’t entered my system
fully
quite yet
and i wish there was a way
to have a style
without
reusing the same tired
words
phrases
that i use
every day
in every poem
in every way they come to me
(but i suppose that might be
because
humans
and humanity
and only having a certain capacity
and phases actually being a thing
that happens
it’s just, sexuality/gender is not usually one of them
(but sometimes they are, that doesn’t make them
less legitimate
and real)
(and, as a cis human, isn’t your gender ever-phasing
ever-changing
too?
is what you thought as the most important part
of being a boy/man
the same as it was when you were 7?
15?
20?
40?
70?)

all of life is moments
phases
fading in and out

let’s just acknowledge
pay attention
and enjoy the ride.)