i often forget
that the sounds of the birds
can be my morning page music
and the crickets and wind and rain
can replace my podcasts
i no longer use perpetual sound
to block out my own inner voice
[that sounds like some kind of growth]
but i think i have now found myself using any auditory distractions
as literal distractions
from boredom
and i do wish i was more on board
being bored
for creativity’s sake
i don’t actually know what it means
to be
a great writer
a great poet
i’m just sitting here
at my messy dinner table
early in the morning
writing whatever comes to mind
as a way to encourage myself
to deal with the day
that is coming towards me
at breakneck speed
maybe,
when you’re in your ‘fighting a [seemingly] losing war
against fascism with the best tool you have —
kindness’ era
you’ll understand
~~~
i feel like this kind of morning
and this kind of writing
is the reason i started this challenge to begin with
i feel more awake
more aware
more ready to start my day
though i still need to edit and pick and send in the audition
i feel so much more prepared for it
now
~~~
“you look like such a writer!”
of my big sweater
comfy tee
glasses
bun
and coffee in hand
and i do, don’t i?
i do…
not really feeling
the writing right now
but i know i should
and i gotta
and i will and i am and i have been
and i did
just
rocking out
to some ratatat
[instead of writing
these morning pages
like i should be
like i should be]
quick morning pages this morning
perhaps even without posting
until the evening
because we got shit to do
this early morn’
[though i’d love to just be
sewing — apparently that’s my vibe
when the world gets to be
too big and too frightening
just do the physical
helpful labor
you know how to do]
just a quick little morning poetry today
gotta do it
gotta do it
if only to wake myself up
to be in the moment
and help for tomorrow
and tomorrow’s tomorrow
to get in the habit
again
of writing
and writing
and writing
my thoughts out
each morning
each moment
digested through
poetry
accidentally realizing
[through morning page poetry]
that i’ve tried to package my life
my feelings
my emotions
my experience
my existence
into a narrative structure
with themes and things
all tied up in a nice bow of a simple story
for other people’s consumption
just to yell at myself
that my life is mine to experience, no one else’s;
whether or not i’m enjoying my life, no one else
should get to consume it until i’m
actually gone.
i don’t need to make myself digestible
especially when i’m not even in a
‘public eye’ of any kind right now
why
did i/do i
do this to myself?
[i just want to experience something
without worrying what others will
think, looking back, as if i’m some
kind of historical figure — is that
too much to ask of my own psyche???]
i’m already well past 300 words
and i’ve gotten such good work out
for me
but not for anybody
else
maybe i should start taking old poems
and redoing them/
adjusting and rewriting
for use in a book of some kind?
i’ve now written
more than one poem every single day
for over three years now
officially 1,134 days
according to this calculator i just found
on the interwebs
let’s calculate a bit more:
i know i usually write at least three poems —
though sometimes there’s a lot more/
but sometimes i’ve skipped days to come back later
and use an unpublished poem from a previous writing session —
let’s just say it averages out to three a day
[i know this will be a low estimate]
that makes, at least 3,402 poems
[probably closer to 6,000 if we’re being honest]
[i wonder if it would be worth it
to go back and actually count
how many poems happened each day]
[that would be wild
to say
the least]
and all of this look back/calculation has helped none of the
‘i have no poem to post today’
issue…
i suppose i could post this word soup,
give the internet the knowledge
that while i post one to three poems daily
on that site, the need to write
is overwhelming sometimes,
and sometimes i just gotta write and write and write
and i guess i’ve written somewhere between 3 and 6 thousand poems
[honestly probably even more]
since i started this experiment
in april of 2021
[also, i thought it would be an
experiment that would last me a year
and here
i am…]
focus
focus
focus
write the poems
and don’t get distracted
by the music
or the artwork
or the potential bagels
arriving
anytime
soon
focus
focus
focus
don’t be taken in by
the coffee beside you
or the potential trips
all coming up
or the gig
later today
or the stress
slowly
approaching
encroaching
focus
focus
focus
you just need 300 words
it’s not that difficult
it’s not that hard
it’s not a means to an end
but instead
a means to
a beginning
wake
myself up
with poetry
widen my eyes
with words
pump my veins
with phrases
of soft rhymes
and alliterations
and pick up the pace
of morning
with stanzas of
longing
and beauty
wake
myself up
with poetry
kipventures 