i don’t know what to write
[i don’t know how to write]
my brain has been sucked dry
and all that’s left is
stardew
valley
i don’t know what to write
[i don’t know how to write]
my brain has been sucked dry
and all that’s left is
stardew
valley
not feeling the morning page poetry
this morning
but that doesn’t mean
i won’t do it
i mean
i continue to do this
every
single
morning
whether i’m in the mood or not
just to have something to do
just to have a habit to latch onto
just to have some proof
to say
‘i was here, i had thoughts and feelings and insights, too’
and maybe someone will read them soon
and maybe someone will read them in hundreds of years
and maybe
because they’re all digital
they’ll disappear into the ether
but
maybe the ether will get a kick out of all these poems
and they and the void can talk about me
behind my back
when i’m long long long gone
vibing
with music
but not with
writing
[the plight of the creative
with too many outlets]
sometimes you just gotta end
a poem
when it decides it’s time
to end
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…
taking time from poetry
to pat the cat on my lap
or encourage the puppy to play with her ball
or say random sentences to kip about
the randomness in my brain
[what i usually use this poetry outlet to express or explain]
which all makes for great connections
but not necessarily good morning writings
jazzy soundtracks
to lull my brain into awakeness —
to hold my body close
and warm it with the heat
of brass and dancing bodies
in that way that only jazz can
in that way that i only want jazz to
hold me
wake me
warn me of the world
and hold me when the world is too much
and let me know exactly what that too much is
so i can do something
to change it
[when i am
awake]
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
take your moment
meditate
relax
it’s just a morning
like any other morning
no extra stress comparatively
i don’t know why your heart is beating like that
so loud
so loud
but it is what it is
and it is just a morning
so meditate
write
and be here when you’re ready
i think it’s so funny
when people are funny
about their dog’s gender
the dog
doesn’t care
only you care
only you
~~~
but maybe that’s the source
right?
it doesn’t matter what the misgendered person’s gender is
it doesn’t matter how they feel at all
it’s all about the
person
in power—
the parent
or owner
or law maker
am i right?
~~~
experimentation
with imperfection
with writing
without rewriting
with whimsy
and morning brain
and coffee-less veins
and only a little bit
of contemplation
before composition
before posting
again