poem a day

July 3, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

even when i’m sad
or overwhelmed
with the state of the world
this puppy doesn’t know
this puppy just wants to play
this puppy will look at me
with a tilted head
trying so hard to figure out what i’m saying
this puppy will sleep so peacefully
her feet dance and dance and dance
this puppy may not know
what’s happening
in the world
or down the street
or even fully understand
what’s happening in this house
but this puppy is happy
and that happiness
infects me
infects us
every day
and makes the world’s problems seem
a little
less daunting
for a moment

(and that is what i call
self
care)

July 2, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i have a recurring dream
(in that it has happened twice)
where i’m trying to get to a
circus training place in
Bushwick
but the daytime trains are all delayed
so i have to take a lesser known line
but instead of being like a regular
subway
system
or even an
elevated train
it is pretty much a
mine cart
tromping
open aired
through secret forested areas of Brooklyn
on smaller rail lines
held up on top of stones and rocks
reminiscent of the tracks
i grew up
walking along
at all hours
day
and
night.

July 1, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

in the mornings
i am coming into my own
and i write
and i write
and i say
very little

during the day
i am observing all my own
and i think
and i think
and i write
very little

at night, before sleep
my mind analyzes
everything on its own
and i ponder
and i prepare
and i write masterpieces
in my mind
but i really write
not at all

and in the morning
it’s gone.

June 30, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i can feel you
just past my fingertips
lightly guiding my time
here

and i wonder if you
hear me when
i talk to
you

~~~

language
is a slippery slope
a slow burn to
bonfire blaze
flames
licking the sides
of a place
you once called
home

language
and manipulation of it
is spending years
decades even
trying to find
the perfect word or phrase
for every situation/
meaning/
feeling
until you realize
language will never be enough
so you just do what you gotta
until the day when something
comes close enough
that it gives you
a shadow of
that feeling

language
is my art form
and when i’ve done it right
it paints pictures without a canvas,
tells stories sans narratives,
brings others into a close embrace
without ever
getting
near

and for someone who despises words
and their limitations
as much as i do,
i sure hold language dear.

~~~

is it time?
time to prose it up
again?

my fingers now type
automatically
in stanzas
(could i even go back
to straight narrative
if i tried?)

these poems might not be
exactly
what i’m trying to say,
but damn is it closer than any
‘stream of consciousness’
over-writing
will get me.

June 27, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

To Do
Today:
An Experiment;

let’s warm up a little
with this Morning Poetry
but
let the majority of the writing happen
later
after breakfast
after naps
when the day is fully itself
and i feel myself too.
maybe then inspiration can be
things happening
my feelings
my emotions
my thoughts
not just
‘i’m so tired’
or
‘i want to be able to write’

maybe
possibly
this could be
my way in.

June 25, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

constitutional protections
to life
liberty
and the pursuit of happiness
are being stripped away to reveal
all we ever had
was the right to make money
for others

~~~

i’m all for corpse rights
but
when a dead person has more
bodily autonomy
than 50% of living citizens
something seems
off

~~~

although
with gun rights the way
they are
we might be dead soon anyway
so…
…yay upcoming rights?

June 24, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

to be
on the cusp
of knowing who you are
but still fearing the unknowns
of changes
to your
body
mind
and soul

how dare this internalized
trans-phobia,
the lies and terrorizing from the cis-stem,
affect me this deeply

(and in my Pride month, no less!)

~~~

the puppy’s tail pulsates,
swinging wildly back and forth,
as she barely contains her glee
in a well-trained sit;
‘wait’

the cat stares,
meows,
then damn near head-butts the dog
with love,
but still hisses
(instinctually?)

someday
they will
be friends.

~~~

it’s mornings like this
when my mind feels blank
that i wonder if it’s actually good for me
to write
and write
and write and write and write
until i find something to say,
or if it would better serve me
to let the morning go
‘to waste’
and write later in the day
when things have inspired my mind
to think things through
and the creative process
is finally flowing…

what
do you
think?