sometimes
when i don’t know what to write
i’ll just lightly tap my fingertips
against the keyboard
i don’t press any of the buttons down
it’s not to make any sort of mark
on the electronic page
rather
i’m trying to shake creativity loose
from my fingers, hands, arms,
body —
i’m trying to rain down onto the keyboard
and maybe one of these puddles
will create words
that i can splash into
and from which
i can start
a poem
i feel at odds
with my own creativity
with my own wants and needs
with my own life as i’m living it
amongst people
everything feels so fallible
so ephemeral
and i suppose it all is
it’s just, there might be some time
before all the skills and abilities
and friends and life
leaves us
so we might as well have fun while we can
[rather than worrying ourselves
into complete stagnancy]
the creativity is bubbling up
boiling and broiling
until a mess ends up over the sides of the pot
roiling down the sides
and onto the stove itself
and the question is:
was the creative endeavor one that would
put the flame that ignited the creative spark
out
or
is it one that is incendiary and will
continue to burn
until it consumes
the whole house?
but what to write about
when my brain feels so tired
and exhausted from trying to
be creative all week
and knowing that there’s still a couple of things
left to adjust
and fix and mix in
but it’s ok
for a first
draft
it’s ok
for my first
try
it’s ok
for a first
and maybe even a second
or maybe
maybe
maybe
it’s better than ok
for all of those things
[i need to believe
in my creativity
more]
quiet the mind
just enough to hear the important thoughts/
the creative thoughts/
the thoughts that are often drowned out
by anxiety rambling
and existential depression blues
there may be creative moments
inside those diatribes
but i’ve heard enough of them to know —
it’s getting past them
that the true me
lies
[in truth]
gibberish poems
can become
gibberish songs
which may be
exactly what i need to do
in order to stop me
from overanalyzing
and overjudging
and overscrutinizing
my own creativity
creativity streams from me
from my fingertips to a computer screen
from my acting choices to an audience’s eyes
from my body on a circus apparatus
and i feel
almost
creative
i need projects
in my life —
creative outlets
with other people —
a collaboration
feeding a conglomeration
of creativity
otherwise
i’m just not me
it’s only hitting me now
we are in a brand new year
the possibilities only end with your
[and society’s]
imagination(s)
and even then
some folks push the boundaries
of societal borderings
think outside the box
and only become trapped when they exhaust
every [im]possible way out
and still
try
i’d like to be that kind of
creative
it is approximately
one month shy
of the one and a half year mark
of Kip
going into work
physically.
and i’m getting all nervous
about them going into work
physically today,
though their work is vaccine only,
and mask encouraged,
and Kip told me they’d probably keep their mask on all day long,
but i’m still all nervous
maybe it’s because i’ve been the one to actually go outside
in this Global Patrick Stewart;
i’ve gone grocery shopping
and picked up prescriptions
and had doctors’ appointments
and circus classes
and marches
and protests
and Kip has accompanied me on a couple adventures,
a protest here,
a vacation there
(a vacation where
we still only stayed inside our airbnb the whole time)
so i’ve been out on my own
and Kip has not
and they are a grown adult
and used to make this trip
into physical work
every
work
day
arriving between 8 and 9
leaving between 5 and 9 (depending on after-work activities)
and they learned the streets of manhattan
around their work
and maybe i’m just nervous
that they will once again
have a life apart from our tiny Brooklyn living box
but i also want them to have their own experiences
so we can come together at the end of the day
and share our stories
together.
i have no need for them to only have a life as i can see it,
similarly, i enjoy their encouragement of my
circus classes
and acting classes
and film projects
and artistic endeavors,
but i’m still all nervous…
(i wonder if this is how they’ve felt every time i went in
physically
to an aerial space
over this last year or so…)
~~~
i know
it’s possible
to hold in one’s heart
the gratitude
that one has personally
dodged a bullet
as well as the support
and solidarity
of those who experienced it entirely
but i can’t seem to convince my physical form
that this is, indeed, a thing that can happen.
~~~
my creativity
is still part of me
even when i’m not actively
making up worlds
and writing new words
and surpassing my own expectations.
my creativity
never leaves
just sometimes
it might need
a bit of a
nap.
kipventures 