December 13, 2023

i’m not ready
for the slew of wrap-ups
the posts and the culminations
the retrospectives of what this year has been
to so many many people…
it all just seems so false
so farcical
so individually selfish to
look back a year of billions of people
and only think about you
your loss
your gain
your sorrow
your joy

i want perspective
[which i’m sure some will find]
[maybe even most of the folks whose stuff
i’m likely to see]

[or maybe
i’m being unkind
maybe
i need to take a second to rewind —
we all only know what we individually think
and it is the masses of individuals
that make the community we seek;
so why not look back
and share
with those we think of as
our people
our comrades
our neighbors and our folks?]

[still, i can’t help but think
about how shitty a year this has been
and how much and how little has happened
and how, in the grand scheme of things,
even with my utter sorrow and grief,
i still have it better than so so so so so many people
and i can’t stop thinking
about genocide
of people
of the earth
and feel so damn
helpless
hopeless
over here]

~~~

at least there is a little puppy
playing with her little chew-toy
of a collection of mushrooms on a log
and, wait, she is having too much fun,
i check behind me, and she has instead a rainbow sweater in her jaws

i tell her to stop

she immediately drops
and looks at me
with her adorable puppy-dog eyes
and wags her tail
because — though i said no and was stern — i’m paying attention to her now
and that’s all she really wants
attention
love
and care
and i can give her those things
no problem, no problem there.

~~~

only two poems
and already over the word-goal

it’s almost like i really had some things to say
today

March 6, 2022

the last
few weeks
we’ve gotten so little sleep
at night,

what with parties happening
two doors down,
or our dog
trying to lick away her own skin,
or the cat
being…a cat;

sleep has been
interrupted
at best
and non-existent
at worst

but last night
we may have slept through the night?
(or at least, had 3 or less wake-ups,
instead of our usual
10+)
and i feel
p rested
and my body
(and brain)
have no idea
how
to feel
[emotionally]
about that.

~~~

i wonder if i’ll ever feel
like
my poetry has a direction
a perspective
a purpose
a reason to keep writing and writing
other than my own
obsession
with
what the hell this life/world/brain is

but for now
i’ll just keep
writing
and writing
and writing and writing and writing
my damn-near gibberish-ness
and hope it sparks
*something*
in someone
in time.

~~

question
everything
answer
nothing
preserve
some things
and continue
on