that was
the greatest part of my morning
the greatest morning
a cat on my lap
enjoying the scritches
from my left hand
and a puppy at my feet
leaning into me
enjoying the scritches from my
right hand
and though i got no writing done
and it only lasted about ten minutes
i was in a blissful heaven
the whole time
how quickly we get used to
the nice things in life
a filling and gorgeous breakfast
out on a shady balcony
overlooking a small square in Athens
and lazy writing right afterwards
only two days of that, and yet i think that is what i’ll miss most
but who knows what the island of Kalymnos has in store for us
or the ferry ride to Rhodes
or Paris or Madrid or Lisbon
or even all the trains we have yet to take
but i see why kip in the past has insisted
on staying one place
and living
like a natural-born citizen
of wherever we are visiting
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…
Kip making music
on an OP-1
on top of a wooden table
with metal bars
supporting
running across to where i rest my foot,
and even through my thick bootie
i can feel the bass rumble through
into my bones
and i love it
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]
playing with the puppy —
a necessary respite
from morning pages
i feel too tired to write,
and an upcoming day
that i have no idea
how
it’ll play
out
write until
it’s time to order
write until
the coffee is done
write until
this song is over
write until
you literally can’t anymore
[and then write a little bit more]
the first sip of coffee
creates quite the placebo effect in me —
i know my genetics don’t react that much
to caffeine
nor could the actual waking effect
happen while the liquid
is still in my mouth, but damn
simply tasting
and swallowing
this delicious brown bean soup
kicks my awareness
into overdrive
and i actually feel
kinda awake and alive
for the first time
the first moment
in the day
if only i knew what i wanted to write about/
if only i didn’t start hundreds of poems
immediately after closing up the morning poetry page/
if only i could access all the unfinished lines in my mind
from last night and prior nights
going back years and decades
and mine them for inspiration for today
now
this morning//
but instead i find myself sitting and staring/
and hoping and despairing/
and writing about writing
and random morning things
[maybe, every few weeks, i should actively make morning poetry
into nighttime poetry
and see what happens
then]
the rain falls
or just stalls
upon our little home
and we, cozy
inside, hide from the
wind and wet and chill and
catch our morning
here and now
kipventures 