May 15, 2022

how are we
already
halfway through May?

(i blinked and April was gone)

but nothing will ever compare
to 2020
and the collective pressing of time
lasting forever;
that March that took
approximately eight years
to pass
and past that
i honestly don’t remember
anything
until June
(it was all March, you see)

i joke that
“time is a mortal construction”
because of a show i was in
(i was going to say once,
but technically it was twice)
and 2020 really showed us
how much of our society
really goes in to
how we perceive
the passage
of time
(and the abolishing of dst this year
did nothing to help the case
of time being anything near
concrete)

(i read once
that the only true marker
that we have
for time passing
is entropy,
all the rest of it
is simply our
perceptions,
so…)

~~~

why
do i
constantly fall into the trap
of thinking that
i don’t deserve
a “big
ol’
breakthrough”™
in my depression
if i’m not at
rock
bot-
tom
?

i’ve looked back at times
in my life
in my time
with this struggle
that seem pretty near,
but i recall clear
as day and night
are far apart
that those particular times
felt like i could always go
farther
down

depression
looks different
for different
people

so why can’t i get it through
my tick-ass skull
that rock bottom
would look different
for me
than other people?

i am not in a place
of rock bottom now,
that i can guarantee
to you and to me,
but i do feel plateaued
in a way i’ve felt
for years and years and—
–i also shouldn’t fall into the trap
of thinking that a plateau
deserves breakthroughs
any less
than a drop past the
“point of no return”™

so why
do i
find excuses
in every place
i find myself?

~~~

the puppy
wants so badly
to be friends with the cat

she sits
as calmly as her little puppy muscles can muster
and waits
for a sign of friendship

the cat, on the other hand,
simply hisses
and growls
and hides
and sighs

as the dog takes that all as signs
that the cat is conversing
and she excitedly talks back
in whining yips
and barking excites
‘come play with me!’
she seems to say
‘let’s be friends! please!? pleeeeeease!?!?!’
but the cat
is already
halfway
up the stairs
to hide just out of plain sight
or tuck herself deep under the bed
and the dog still whines
and climbs on the couch
to wait for her to show her face
in another hour or two
and the puppy whines start up again
and the hisses too,
and i hope one day
they do
actually
become friends
but today that seems…

damn near impossible

May 14, 2022

May
is going by
in the blink of an eye

~~~

i wish
sometimes
that my brain would just
chill out
for a moment

(not calm down completely;
i’ve learned my lesson there)

no, just,
give me a moment
a minute
an hour
a day
where i can be awake
but not overwhelmed with all the
‘what if’s
and ‘what could be’s,
the worries
that constantly plague me,
the overthinking
that suffers me
to ponder out
eight million possible bad outcomes
to a leap of faith
(some even stemming from
an outcome starting out
on the positive side)

does anyone else
see
both the big picture
and all the minute details
and instead of finding solace
in the breaking down of tasks
into smaller, manageable steps,
you just get overwhelmed
with the amount of tasks
that goes into everything?

or is that just me?

~~~

a rehearsal
a conversation
both later
both to look forward to

but first,
bagels
(or perhaps homemade Indian food
for breakfast)

(we’re adults, we make our own decisions in this house)

May 13, 2022

poets
are supposed to be
sentimental
romantical
(or so society says)
their best works coming
from falling
head over heels over head
over and over and over again
with people/with person/with newfound loving

but i count myself a poet
(as strange as it still feels
internally;
but
you can’t do something
every day
for over a year
and not get to take that label)
and i suppose i feel
sentimental
romantical
but without the drama
without the dire feelings
without the falling/
not knowing/
which way is up/
will there be ground when i fall/
will it cushion or strike/
a final blow/
so/
i feel like my poems aren’t the romantical kind
most people expect

but i’ve had nearly ten years with you,
six of those legally wed
(straight out of a time i thought that’d never be a thing)
(planning a wedding when you don’t know which state
will abate
the legality of your love
is an…interesting experience, to say the least)
and we skipped most societal standards,
no first/second/third date rules,
just us, sharing our personal traumas
amid late night kisses
and early morning apple juice;
a first “date” lasting damn near 24 hours
(and only a previous commitment kept it
from just extending
ad inifinitum
as many sapphic first dates go)

a one night stand
turned to talking
and magnetic-felt pulling
until we collapsed our expectations,
shed our ‘no [new] relationship rules’
and went from officially dating
to quietly engaged
in four months
flat

and each month after
i’ve learned from you
and grown with you,
and we’ve had great times
and incredibly hard times,
quiet times
and a few loud times,
but most of the time
it’s simply
comfortable-being-with-you times.
i love our co-[in]dependence
that we’ve come into on our own terms.
and that year [+] where we could only see each other
was such a welcome gift.
and even though nothing is ever promised,
i can see my future more clearly
with you
than i’ve ever seen it before,
and i know
when we’re ghosts
we’ll finally be able to cuddle the way we want
bypassing physical boundaries
and feeling that closeness we yearn for
in every tight tight hug…

we were wed
6 years ago on this day
so i suppose that’s why
today
i’m feeling
sentimental
[and a bit romantical]
but also
sentimentality sneaks up on me
most days
that i get to see you
across the table from me
working on your programming
while i write stanzas of free-form poetry,
or when we’re apart
and i feel the heartbeat vibration
of my phone telling me it’s you texting me
little words of love
or collections of memes sent as a love language all its own
or getting ready for bedtime
in this house we’ve made a home
with our adorable little family
and the comfort of us
just being
[together]

i’m sentimental for you
in a way i never thought i’d be
and i must admit
i’m grateful for it,
my Kip.

May 12, 2022

does anyone else
treat this life like a dress rehearsal,
like a rough draft,
like some sort of practice run
and keep, in their minds,
a running track of all their regrets
so that when it comes time
to actually perform/publish/play
‘for real’
they can do
life
‘right’
?

(or is that just my trauma response?)

May 11, 2022

poetry
is coming
[and going]
this morning

nothing sticking around long enough
to become a full fledged poem
but damn, are my tried and true topics
flinging themselves towards my brain
making me start
multiple
pieces
just to get bored and toss them aside
(or get distracted by other things
and totally lose my stride)

so

poetry
this morning
is coming
and it’s going

and i’m just a vessel
half finished poems
can flow through
[maybe to you]

May 10, 2022

procrastination task:

something that should be accomplished
[at some point]
done in a frantic spur of energy
when other
more important/
urgent/
critical/
imperative
tasks must take priority.

(hopefully
a way
to shoo those distractions
and get down to business…

…eventually)

May 9, 2022

three
baby
raccoons
came bumbling down our path
late yesterday afternoon.
three
alone,
sans parent,
tiny
young
raccoons
towards the house
(which meant towards the road)
so all four of us
(my kip
and their parents
and me)
came outside
to try to shoo them
back up, towards safety.
but instead, these
tiny, baby raccoons
investigated us
like we were the most interesting things they’d ever seen
and they were so close
i could have touched them
(they almost touched me)
and a bread path was laid
but they stayed
hidden
in the hostas
until after the sun had set
(and,
my goodness,
let me tell you,
a sleeping raccoon
has fur
like a cat’s,
and again
i was struck by
how easy it would have been
to simply pet that inviting floof before me,
but i want to be good to nature;
on the off chance that the parent was simply out on a mission
and would soon return,
i wanted these
three
tiny
baby
raccoons
to be able to re-join said provider
and go to the local raccoon hangout
and grow up strong
to become
three
big
city
raccoons,
urban wildlife,
big chunky bois
etc.)
so we refrained from touching,
from “rescuing,”
and by the last puppy walk of the night
they had gone from the hostas,
and i hope the parent did come,
and i hope they are all three safe
and cozy
and warm
and loved
right now
because, let me tell you,
i fell in love
yesterday
with
three
tiny
baby
raccoons,
and i may never recover.

May 8, 2022

most mornings
as i write my silly morning poems
i have a cat
on my lap.

since the new puppy’s arrival,
the cat has avoided all points of potential contact
and not set foot in the entire downstairs area,
save for moments when the pup is
well caged away
(crate and gates and the like)
but even then,
a cat paw on the main floor
is a rare sight indeed
theses days

so instead
of a cat on my lap
i must write this poem
with a dog by my side
barely touching
but still comforting
to have her there
as a reminder
that there are creatures around this house
(human and non)
when i get so lonely
hanging out with
just my own words…

May 6, 2022

when doing something
‘cringe’
as an 18 year old,
i was so stressed out
that i wasn’t acting like an immediate adult
in every way

but when pondering those
‘cringe’
moments now, 10+ years later,
i am struck with how much of a gosh-darn baby
i still was.

[and ‘cringe’ is a social construct anyway]

[like gender]

[and time]