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]
writing out what i need to work through,
but jumbles of feelings
and half-formed stanzas of
partially-formed thoughts
aren’t really something i’d want to share with
‘the public’
[or even, really, with myself]
so i guess i’ll write about writing
for the three-hundredth
three-thousandth
three-millionth time
and post that here
and hope
it at least makes some sense
and doesn’t feel too
deja vu-y
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
if only
i wanted things
and then let myself take steps
towards them
~~~
ok
so what about wanting small things
and letting myself lead up to them
and taking those steps
all for me
all for me?
~~~
these morning pages are a bit of a mess
and i’m a bit of a mess
and i’m stressing and stressing
but maybe someday i’ll know what i’m trying to say
poem to-do lists
and poem “i love” lists
and very few true poems this morning
but i suppose that’s what these morning pages are for —
just get out of your brain what’s been clogging it lately, and do it
in poetry’s form;
for that is what you love
and what connects you most to the you that you are
and to the you that you’d like to be, even if you don’t know who
that you truly is
yet
stress dreams about travel
and hotel stays
and alarm systems
and cats
and i am still so tired
and though i don’t want to go back into the dream
[admittedly, there was some kind of mystery
i would have liked to figure out]
the desire to go back to sleep
after eating some sort of breakfast
and playing some sort of game
is so strong
i’m letting myself write myself tired
rather than write myself
awake
how do morning pages feel so much better
with my kip sitting across from me
and a cup of cold coffee in my hand
and a cat perched upon my lap
and a puppy underneath my chair
and everything as it is meant to be?
when did i start liking
consistency?
maybe don’t concentrate on morning pages
[though it is still morning
and we are on break now
officially now]
horrendous
i don’t know where i’m going
horrendous
i don’t know what i’m doing
horrendous
anyone expecting expectations from humans
when humanity is doing
this
didn’t really write yesterday
today is seeming to be starting the same way
do i need an excuse to put this all away
or do i need to allow myself to delve
deeper
in these morning poems
than i have been doing
recently?
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???]
kipventures 