working on old songs
that kip and i wrote
quite literally ten years ago
wow
wow
wow
woa
who woulda thought
this niche song
written for a show
that wasn’t even a musical
and was barely used in the production itself
[except as a scene-change song
and a mini-inside joke]
would have life
in an original music-making
music-sharing
infinite
audio
app
kip would create
a decade later
[the memories!]
corrections
corrections
corrections
that’s all my brain does
it leads me forward to the point of
red-pen markings on
drafts long done
i wish i could just let it all be
not see the typos in friends’ texts
or my own poetry
or anything really
when i understand the meaning
and the world is itself is a liminal space
we’re all just visiting
just trying to make it through the day
why does my mind turn into the ultimate grammar-nazi
when we all know [or knew] that the nazis
are always
the bad guys
i’d rather be a grammar anarchist
a grammar socialist
at least grammar neutralist
but no, my brain functions in rules
[though i suspect my spirit is made of chaos]
and i just want to scream at myself
“WHYYY???”
[but i think we’re probably at least mildly aware of the why—
it’s the
trauma]
oh no
oh no
my monthly [or so] feeling
that i want to write
prose
here it comes
[there it
goes?]
silly poems
almost rhyming
not quite staying inside a scheme
playing around with meter
with rhythm
with all the parts of a poem
but never in a way that feels
precise
refined
polished
my poetry exists to guide non-poets
into expression
not to be analyzed
not
at
all
the brain can’t seem to parse
what words are words
and what words are not
this dawning morning
confusing dreams keep shifting by
like memories i’d
forgotten, like
the sands of time making imagery
in a jar
if i nap
and sleep
and dream
again
will that put me right
or go further into
wrong-ness territory?
[only one way to test and tell]
i had a moment the other day
when the clarity came over me
and i knew i wanted to re-read all my poetry
and put together
a book or a zine or a something
to publish
myself or sent
and i had the energy in that moment
to do it
all
and now
now i’m so tired again…
why is my brain
so certain in one moment
of one
thing, and then in the next
absolutely
factually
sure
about
the
opposite???
making sure i write
and write and write
until all the words i’ve written
are poetry
or at least something like it
and i’ll have something to post
and something to read
in the future
when/if/when i reread everything
looking for something
that may
might
perhaps
stand the test of time
tummy aches last night
was it stress?
was it existential?
was it something i ate?
was it something i didn’t eat?
was it my sinuses and their dripping into my stomach?
or the meds i take for my sinuses
dripping into my
stomach?
i don’t know what it was
but it
sucked
one more
just for funzies
just for writing
just for clearing out the
cobwebs in my brain
one more
just for doing something
just for getting writing out
just for waking up my whole self
before it slowly drifts away
one more
just for excuses
just for habit-forming
just for habit-breaking and re-making
one more
just for me
just for a reader i’ll never see
just for the universe to know
i wrote
one
more
poem
glasses full of smudges
and scratches
and i want to find an eye-option
that i don’t find multiple problems with
it was never glasses
those falling off my face
and fogging up
and getting in the way
and always getting dirty
and always making me feel
self-conscious about the way i look
with glasses
and it’s recently not contacts
with the headaches when i spend
even a little bit of time
looking at a screen
and getting so damn dry after like 6 hours
and needing to replace them
over
and over
and over
and struggling when they feel
even a tiny bit off
in my eye
and the random blurs
that still haunt my eyesight
and it’ll never be
just
dealing with myopia
mine’s too intense
too advanced
too unable to see
literally
anything—not quite legally blind
but close, i’d bet, without some form of
betterment
is lasik even an option for me???
kipventures 