June 4, 2022

hammock days
(the relax, not the circus)
under the mosquito net
on top of the shade umbrella
a perfect
Bronx
morning

~~~

it feels weird
writing morning
poems
on a deck
so far from
the regular
place

but fuck it,
it’s
lovely

~~~

the soft netting
weaves
in the breeze

(you don’t need to find any metaphors,
comparisons
or similes
that it is like;
it is just itself)

the bird calls
intermingle
with the spotify playlist
of classical
(or indie)
(or ‘garden music’)
(whatever that means)

and the netting hides us from
the other creatures
who call our yard
home

~~~

is the mosquito netting
hiding us
from the squirrels and birds and other such wildlife
or are the animals simply getting used to our
presence?

(or does it matter
when the morning
is this
damn
gorgeous
?)

~~~

and what of the sun
not shaded
by the umbrella?

(to burn
or not to burn,
that is the question.)
(and sunscreen is
the answer)

June 3, 2022

i [might] have
hit the point
where my body of work is
Prolific
[but quantity doesn’t indicate quality]
[though practice makes perfect—
or
at the very least permanent—]

and is it actually
Prolific
if i am the only one
aware
of it all?

~~~

400+ days of writing
poetry
every morning

a solid amount of those mornings
(like this very one)
Three-Poem-Days
and even more housing
multiple drafts of multiple poems
not yet seen by
The Internet

but if i’m simply writing free-form/
stream of consciousness/
‘do it but don’t worry about it’
kinds of things,
churning
but not editing/
or revising/
or analyzing/
or anything of the sort

does that not become
at some point
Junk?

~~~

my greatest poem
within this experiment
was seen by more people
but has not been posted here.

a slam poem written
from a prompt
intended for a monologue
(originally from a spell)

i learned (from that poem) that prompts are friends
and a one-week due-date
with daily revisions
and one solid subject matter
are useful in my creative process

i am actively proud of that poem
and i want to write more like it
(with the passion/
and verse/
and poetical devices/
and wholeness)
so why do i not
actively
seek out
prompts,
nor let myself
take time
to edit
any of these
anymore?

June 2, 2022

poems pulsating
through my mind
as i find
myself
at that coast of consciousness
trying to remember
the words as they came together
the alliteration and rhyme
after so much time
asleep

and in the morning
nothing
ever
comes to me.

June 1, 2022

the last few Junes
i’ve been filled more
with Gay Wrath
than Gay Pride;
seeing into the system
that kills our
Black and Brown comrades
and lulls us white queers
into a false sense of security,
complicity
with a system that wants our cash
but never wants our voices
or change for our liberation,
viewing the systems:
the patriarchy,
the white supremacy,
the capitalistic [lack of] integrity,
and learning that
though i’m part of the system
i can do very, very little about it
individually.

this morning
June 1
the first day of pride
in the crazy year of
2022
i simply feel
tired

perhaps this is my
Gay Sloth month?

no, that doesn’t sound right.

Sloth implies a desired laziness
naps for pleasure
on-purpose leisure
(though i did read
somewhere
once
that sloth might have meant
not laziness
but depression–
the dread that goes into that
catatonic inability to get up in the morning–
that is the sloth i am all too familiar with…)
so perhaps this year
is the year
of Gay Sloth
of Gay Existential Crisis
Gay Over-It-All

i am still out and proud
and will give everything to help
others
feel that way too;
my rainbow hair can be your beacon
if you need one,
but rainbow capitalism has stopped
luring me
has stopped
infuriating me
and i guess i’m at the point where
my only reaction
is a big roll of my eyes
and a reminder
to actually research
Why
the first Pride was a Riot
Why
there should be no pigs at Pride
Why
marriage equality isn’t what we thought
(i’ll give you a hint:
it starts with disability rights
and ends at capitalism)
and Why
Why
Why
we do still need Pride

i know
why
we still need Pride.

May 31, 2022

there’s a feeling
deep
in the pit of my stomach
and i can’t figure out
if it’s
Change
or Apprehension
or Jealousy
or what

but it’s there
and the faster i try to flee from it
the harder it holds on

so
perhaps
this is simply my companion
for the next few hours/
days/
weeks/
months

and i suppose i’ll try to make it an okay home

May 30, 2022

having
this puppy
makes me wonder
what we missed
about Louka’s puppyhood

(most of the time,
when i thought about Louka’s
sad life before us,
i only thought about her having
all those puppies
and not getting to take care of them.
but Louka had a life before motherhood,
as short as it must have been,
and i do wish i could have seen it;
could have been there
to hear her first whines
turned to yips
turned to barks
as she learned how to use
her big boof tool/
or watched her experience
grass
or rain
or pillows
or blankets
for the first time
and how she might have tested
what they were all about—
would she have bitten them
into submission
like this young Computer dog?
or was it just her big snoof
that would have assessed
what needed to be assessed?)

we think
we saw
a lot of firsts for Louka:
first carpet/
first time in the ocean/
first time on sand/
first time hearing and seeing fireworks/
first time on a waterbed/
first time allowed on a couch/
first time living in a house
with a limitless amount of love
just for her
—and eventually
she experienced her firsts
with a puppy-like curiosity,
but there was a lot/a lot/a lot of fear
at first firsts

but then i remind myself:

thunderstorms
were a big fear
of hers,
[did they remind her
of being stuck outside
in a crate
at the mercy of the elements?]
and she’d shake
and cower
and our hugs didn’t help,
and our thunder-shirts didn’t help,
and the only thing that seemed to calm her nerves
was ‘dog calming music’ playlists,
but by the time
we moved to this house,
(13 years after she was born,
7 years after she came into our lives,)
the few thunderstorms
that she saw here,
she didn’t shake
or cower
or look to the sky with panicked fear—
we didn’t even need the dog calming music;
she knew she was safe
with us.

(and i hope she went into dog heaven
knowing she was safe
without us, too.)

May 29, 2022

sometimes, you need the break,
and sometimes the break needs you,
and every now and then
you need each other,
and that
is a beautiful day

(if you listen)

~~~

what is it about the stardew valley
wintertime
music
that feels so sad
and desolate
and cold
and hopeful
and magical
and pleasant
and soft
and exciting
and new
every time i listen?
every time i play?

~~~

puppy whines
cat hisses
communication:
solid misses

May 28, 2022

wow.

pavlovian response to
lofi music playing:

immediate urge to poetry.

~~~

some days
(most days)
i need the poetry-writing to wake me up
(the coffee is simply comfort-waking
now
rather than an actual stimulant)

but then
some days
(rarely)
(but it does happen)
i need the coffee/the doing/the something
in order to wake myself up
before
i start to write the poetry.

today was one of the latter
days

~~~

a reference?
a reference only my spouse and i will understand?
a reference that might simply be an inside joke in poetry-form?

it’s more likely than you’d think!

May 27, 2022

stop
stop doom scrolling
stop distraction scrolling
do something actually good for your mental health
or do something to stop this country’s imminent collapse

(or something to help your kind survive it—
seeds and love
not guns and guns)

May 26, 2022

a good trip
a quick one, but
a good trip.
a flight cancelled/stood-by/delayed
but arrived,
chill hangout time,
a birthday celebrated,
weeds pulled up,
min-golf putt-putted,
a bonfire burned,
many movies watched,
and resident foxes identified.

a good trip
a quick one, but
a very good trip.
a chill,
low-key,
relaxed,
un-pressured,
lazy summer day,
Tom Hanks movie-watching,
just spending time with each other
kind of a visit

and it sure seems
that was what
both of us
needed.