poem a day

April 5, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

it’s so easy for me to fall
in love
head over heels
dramatically
[platonically]
asking for your heart
opening myself up to let you in
welcoming all of you
beauty
faults
talents
salt
my compassion
for your passion
is limitless

but the minute someone says
‘i’ve made a place for you
in my heart,
please come and tell me
of your dreams and nightmares,
your goals and your regrets,
i want to know all of you
i welcome all of you,
beauty
faults
talent
salt…’

i feel the air
absent
instantaneous

my figurative feet frozen
flipping from fight to flight
forever
heart pounding
knees shaking
voice quaking

why can’t i just let myself,
my already fully opened self,
receive what i’ve already given?

why am i always at a precipice
of giving myself over
surrendering myself to others
and never taking that necessary
step/leap/plunge?

i want to
so badly,

but my entire nervous system
screams against it.

so that the minute i take
the minutest step
towards letting someone
see
me—

the minute they don’t follow
100% of my expectations—

i use that as proof
that i never should have trusted in the first place
and that adds one more minute
on the precipice
between giving and receiving,
loving and pushing away
trusting and unjustly feeling so betrayed
that already the freeze feels like an eternity…

someday

it will be

April 4, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

the pacing
of the pattern
is getting closer…

how did weeks of
inspired writing
followed by
existential creative despair
turn to days
to maybe hours now?

i’m losing concentration
faster than i’m gaining traction
and i just want to be able to stick to a day
and live it all the way through
without naps interrupting
or needing something to drown out my thoughts…

i keep having impulses to do things–
wanting to sew, but on the days i actually have time,
i sit down to a project;
it all feels so overwhelming
and at the same time meaningless.

it’s hard to battle the depression in your head
when it’s both a foreign invader
and your closest, best friend,
[and also, in many many ways,
just yourself.]

this poem is a mess
but so is my head lately

(and in an hour or two,
i bet you anything
i’ll be fine)

April 3, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

the day is gray
and rainy
and my capacity sits at the precipice
of being awake and creative enough
to write and read and work and create
and all those good things,
and that of succumbing to the drear
of the clouds and rain and outside
drain my creativity
until my body floats like vapor
up to the sky

[[[to fly?]]]

April 2, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

connection
in this day and age
of high speed internet
and loudfast cars down the street
and split second decisions
is so rare

but somehow we found each other
and talking with you makes time stop
and we push each other to create a legacy
while still reminding each other to sit in the garden
for as long as the dog will allow us
and our skin on skin contact
is my favorite feeling
in the universe

so let’s continue this
for another five/ten years
because i was just treading water
before you came into my life

April 1, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

April
Fool me once
shame on you
Fool me twice
blame the day.

i actually have no concrete qualms
of this Fools of April
day
but i’m morally against
any pranks or fooling
in bad taste
that do harm

(i mean, i’m against harm
being done
at all)

pranks i enjoy
are things like
Rick-Rolling
and
innocent claims
truthed-up in a moment,
no elaborate schemes
or embarrassment on the prankee.

as a child/teen
i spent the entirety of the 1st
high on my guard
looking at everything
with suspicious eyes,
i felt my entire nervous system
throughout the day
ready to spring
at the tiniest possible stimulant
(how i didn’t know i had anxiety…?)

but i don’t know
what i’m trying to say
with this poem today

i guess
just
don’t be mean,
and give your friends
with generalized anxiety disorder
a break
(since they certainly aren’t going to give themselves one
until midnight oh one
on the second)

March 31, 2022

/ HJ / 1 Comment

Trans Day of Visibility.

i try to be so visible…

but my visibility often seems to negate my living experiences

(any time i wear the trans colors
i’m read as
only femme)

(and while i feel
not
the gender i was assigned at birth,
my taste often finds itself
aligning
with what my assigned gender
is ‘supposed to’ like)

(but i’m not just gay
as in happy
[though often i have this
demeanor]
i’m also queer
as in fuck the system,
as in i will always stand up for those with less power,
as in my entire identity will always be a political statement
because much of it is often politicized without my consent,
and i know of others with intersecting identities
on top of the identity[ies] we share
who will never be out of the line of fire from politicians
trying to gain power
over others)

so i’ll stand up
tall
(as my barely over five-foot-frame will let me)
and proud
of my trans identity,
my non-binary identity,
my queer-in-all-the-ways identity,
and tell everyone who will listen
‘yes, thank you for listening
to me,
an actual trans person,
but please
also listen
to those who fall under the binary umbrella
underneath the larger trans umbrella,
especially trans women,
and listen to those who fall under other marginalized identities,
listen to Black trans folks,
listen to Indigenous trans folks [Indigenous two-spirit people],
listen to trans people of color
listen to those folks of color with darker skin,
listen to trans people with disabilities
listen to trans people who aren’t neurotypical
listen to trans people who aren’t from your country,
listen to trans people who don’t look anything like you,
listen to trans folks who make you feel uncomfortable with your privilege
listen to trans folks who fight the system that was built to tear them down.

and honestly,
if you listen to those folks first
(which i encourage you to do)
and you have a lot of introspection to do
and you don’t have the time
or energy
or capacity
to listen to my words
afterwards,

i’d much prefer that.

listen to trans folks with less privilege than myself
expand your knowledge
first.

(maybe we’ll see each other in the metaphorical
‘audience’
and wave ‘hi!’)

March 29, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

yesterday was a
good(?!?)
day

chores accomplished
things done
(ahead of time even)
friends talked to
(friends!
what a concept!)

and i hope
that this energy
positivity
whatever-y
lasts
just a few days longer

because man, i have so many things on my to-do list
that are just waiting for a day
when i feel like i have the mental stamina
to do them.

~~~

toaster strudels
toasted
iced
eaten

bagels
ordered
made
still waiting
for delivery
(to house and to mouth)

do we need two different breakfasts this morning?
absolutely not.
but do we deserve them?
i’d say…
maybe?

~~~

being an actor is so weird
because not only are we
sharing intimate parts of
our selves/emotions/brains/pasts
and saying ‘hey, do you believe this
in a totally different context?’
we are also airing all our dirty laundry
out
for others’ entertainment
and hoping it’s cathartic
to both audience and us
(while still holding a piece
within our toolbox
just in case
we need it
again)

all the while,
those of us who have gone to school
for this
weirdness
have literally been graded
on things that
can be quite subjective
and we all just kind of had to
admit it
and accept it
and be graded
on our souls
(while being so young
we probably weren’t even connected
with the fullness
of those souls
quite yet)

(i know i, now, ten years later,
could still be more connected,
for my self and for my art.)

March 28, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i really don’t know what i’m doing.
my only post-secondary education
in poetry
was over a decade ago
and i can’t really remember
anything i learned
(granted, that’s probably from
all the trauma/trauma responses
i was experiencing
at the time),
but i digress…

i feel like my skills
with words
would improve
if i could just
Remember
those words.
i often know exactly what i want to say,
and that there is a word
that’s perfect,
but i can’t for the life of me
remember it.
or i know what to say
and i also suspect
there’s an even better word
that would fit the scheme/
rhyme/alliteration/pattern
better than what i have down already
and the harder i try to think
the better i understand
all those analogies
of holding sand
in tightly grasped hands
the desperation
erases
all sense of
every word
i’ve ever known.

so that’s why my poetry
is a little
imperfectionistic,
a little
‘flying by the seat of my pants’,
a little
self-aware/meta/laughing at my own poems,
because otherwise
the grasp would be even tighter
and the only remaining
grain
of sand
would be that of my name

(and even that
i don’t always remember
right away)

March 27, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

dealing with
A Thing™

emotions crashing against my walls
like tidal waves
tsunamis
of bitterness
resentment
betrayal
confusion
trust issues at it once more

and i just want to act
to do my best with my art
and i hope i can feel my ocean
while still remaining true to myself
and my scene partner
and the scene we’ve put together

but what happens
when you always come back
to feeling
just
a little bit
abandoned?