wow…
things that used to be
oh so
“normal”
really are looking
absolutely bonkers
now.
poem a day
December 28, 2021
it’s getting close
to the end of the year
and i’m overwhelmed
by how much
and how little
happened this
twenty twenty-one.
~~~
wordplay
play with the
prefixes
suffixes
rhymes
(internal
and
external)
believe
in
beliefs
and skew slant down
to the ground
just to raise it up
let it rise
bake the pies
see with eyes
how silly words
can play just as well
and a scheme isn’t needed
as necessary as you well
know it
blow it
up
up
up
and let it fly
away.
~~~
let
Imperfection
sit.
December 27, 2021
i’d like to know
how
people do it:
accept the cycles of the earth
without resistance;
the changing of the seasons,
the darkening of days,
the yearly reminders
of time.
i try,
and i understand
logically
that this is how it goes;
there is no stopping
or halting
or pausing
or slowing
or adjusting
but still…
cycles make me sick.
i’ve never been able to accept them
internally,
so i’m certainly not going to be passive
about them passing
externally…
(i feel like i have a better way of explaining this
somewhere up my sleeve,
but right now
“cycles make me sick”
is the only thing i can register
as really getting across
what i have to say,
so i’ll stop here
and try to remind myself
that even the planet needs rest time,
and while time may not be
linear,
humans’ experiences of it is pretty near,
and maybe the problem is
i was simply built for another planet,
or at least another climate…)
December 26, 2021
the concept of living on
borrowed time
of surviving past
when you should be gone
often implies
a sense of freedom
of living each day like your last
but the true implications
of living on borrowed time
skew
negative:
like you could be gone at any moment
so you live always looking over your shoulder,
and that’s why i identify
more
with living on borrowed time
because surviving past my teen-hood
(a feat i literally never imagined)
never brought me a sense
of living life to the fullest;
instead i’m constantly wondering
‘when’???
i was so certain of when it would be
and that passed
but i’m living on borrowed time
it’s gotta happen someday
so,
like i said…
when???
December 25, 2021
it’s Kipmas
we say
thirteen days
of a love language
trying not to fall into the pits
of the deep despairing depression
this time of year
usually yields
but also trying not
to avoid it;
if i need to mourn
the happiness and joy
of a home full of life
that now only seems to house
(or maybe that’s just my impression)
then that’s ok.
if i need to cry
that this year feels so weird
(especially now
that it’s actually
precedented)
and there’s such simple way(s)
for folks to avoid
overwhelming an already overburdened
healthcare system,
then that’s ok.
i’m not thinking in poetry right now,
it’s not morning
(my usual time to write)
and i’m full with Finnish food
and i feel both antsy and tired
at the same time,
itching for adventure
but longing to stay home
for (possibly) ever
this time of year
is weird
and often brings up
a whole shitload of emotions
(and these last two years more than ever)
but that’s ok.
feel your feelings,
even indulge;
too much is asked of us
at this time of year;
expectations abound
and you can take a moment
or a day
or a week
or a month
to just
sit
and
feel.
(and if i need to have a total breakdown
right as i try to post this
and instead weep for hours
and back-post it
from the 26th,
then i’ll do that, too.)
December 24, 2021
It’s a very skunk-y Christmas
When the day before the Eve-ening,
A precariously-leaned gate outside our door
Gave a neighborhood skunk quite a fright-ening
It’s a very skunk-y Christmas
When throughout our teeny home
The not-quite-fully sealed window panes
Let the stink-smell roam
It’s a very skunk-y Christmas
We’ve tried candles, incense, and fans
Though perhaps if we’d had a real-live-fir
Yeah, that would’ve been a good plan…
It’s a very skunk-y Christmas
But at least it’s not the only threat
What with Omicron out a-spreading
Friends and family won’t be visiting just yet
It’s a very skunk-y Christmas
But our animals don’t seem to mind
The cat runs around as spastic as us-ual
And the dog’s head tilts in kind
It’s a very skunk-y Christmas
When the day before the Eve-ening,
A precariously-leaned gate outside our door
Gave a neighborhood skunk quite a fright-ening
December 23, 2021
‘witch adjacent’
[my]spirituality;
a desire to be certain
[i want to believe]
too suspicious/agnostic/skeptical for my own damn good
but i’m
curious…
and yet
spirituality
is having a phd level knowledge
in onesself
..could that be why i’m so resistant?
December 22, 2021
the desire
to write;
it strikes!
~~~
shortest day of the year
is gone
it came and it went
(with such swiftness)
and now the days start to get longer
again,
and yet,
it starts here…
my slog
my sludge
my molasses of living
my fear
my anxiety
my processing darkness
why do the days feel so much darker
while they get brighter?
~~~
things that make me feel
exceptionally
more feminine:
roughed lips
curved hips
growing out the hair in my armpits.
things that make me feel
exceptionally
more masculine
tailored pants that somehow negate my curves
clenching my jaw until it changes the structure of my bones
imagining just the slightest bit of stubble on my chin
things that make me feel
exceptionally
non-binary:
just
being
me.
December 21, 2021
if you ever have a dog
with the dizzies
(the vertigo)
(the nausea)
(the old dog disease)
(the canine idiopathic vestibular disorder)
know that you can help your dog
replenish her fluids
with ice cubes
(or at least
it’s a little easier
than bringing a bowl of water to her
that she continually,
uncoordinatedly,
backs away from
in fear)
know this, so that you may be able to give your dog plenty of water
within that first 24/48 hours,
rather than being like us
and struggling for each droplet
in rubber bowls and silver spoons and white dishrags on plates
and not thinking of ‘solid water’ until
day three.
signed,
the kips
December 20, 2021
a few months ago
i was stricken
with the fact
that it was getting harder and harder for me
to read
detail.
as a person who thrives
on noticing the tiniest things
the fact that i’d started to skim
most posts/paragraphs/poems
alarmed me
greatly;
i thought it was my own fault,
that my brain was changing
with age,
or maybe writing my own poetry
meant i wasn’t paying attention to others’?
it felt wrong
and hypocritical
and about as un-hj as i could become
it wasn’t until
approximately
one month ago
when someone on
ye olde interwebs
(with a degree in psychology, mind you)
informed their viewers
that it’s ok if we’re all feeling
like it’s hard to concentrate
as of late,
as we are still going through
a global
pandemic/
panini/
patrick stewart/
panda express/
an entire global
trauma,
and we shouldn’t be too hard on ourselves.
so i’ll heed their advice,
and in those moments when i can find minute details,
i’ll treasure them with pride.
but until then,
i’ll try to skim twice
as to not miss anything important,
and not beat myself up about it
too too much.
kipventures 