when
this puppy
leans
against me
i feel her love
poem a day
January 22, 2024
i feel like this new day of a new week
is a whole new moment of a brand new life
i don’t know what it is —
maybe it’s the lack of upcoming stressors,
maybe it’s getting used to this
twenty-twenty-four
as we have it,
maybe it’s feeling confident in friendships,
maybe it’s feeling confident in circus,
maybe it’s because
kip
is no longer feeling
vertigo-y
or migraine-y
and i feel like we might be
past
the worst of whatever this is,
but
so
this feels so new/
so fresh/
so daylight/daybreak/break me out of my rut
even with the cold
even with the chill
even with the snow and ice still there on the ground…
maybe it’s artistic inspiration
flowing all over me,
maybe it’s puppies and cats
and 8 hours of sleep
[even interrupted
i’m pretty sure it counts up to that],
maybe i just forgot
all the reasons i have
to be sad —
whatever it is
i’m feeling
almost
glad
January 21, 2024
we will
Breakfast Day
the day away
because that is what sundays
after hard/busy saturdays
are for
January 20, 2024
interpretation
is 90%
of the poetry game
maybe that’s why i write so bluntly
so obviously
sans metaphor
sans simile
so the interpretation can be
exactly what it was meant to be
[or is this just another example
of me trying to hold on to control
of a thing i really can’t control at all?]
January 19, 2024
collect your thoughts
then spit them out
on a laptop
look at the dregs and see what it says
about you
about your past/present/future
read the spittle like tea leaves
and leave it alone for another day or two
to read them again
with a new eye
a new vibe
a new perception that perspective gives us
[i just want to know what my own brain
is thinking]
January 18, 2024
something
shifted
in the pain in my shoulder
instead of feeling
impossibly impinged
it just feels sore
tight
like a normal shoulder might
and though i still stand slightly lopsided
and i still feel everything ~off~ inside my shoulder joint
i’m hopeful this means
*something*
in this journey
January 17, 2024
the problem with writing
in a different format
[essay and story
i.e. two different prose types]
for so many days
is
it makes
my poetry feel
somehow
Wrong —
maybe less than
maybe too much
maybe just off
from what i’m now used to
but it all just feels so
Wrong
now
January 16, 2024
finally
finally
we have snow!
the ominous winds
have slowed
to a gentle breeze/
a softer blow/
carrying upon it
flecks of white and
cold as ice, but
piling up like pillows.
the puppy, she leaps and bites
at each shovel-full/
each chunk of salt
scattered for safety
scattered for prosperity
scattered for the memory
of living in wisconsin
and doing this daily.
though it hasn’t felt like winter
until this very snowfall,
i immediately regretted
wanting
and taunting
the skies with my lines
after each prediction of precipitation
“i’ll believe it when i see it.”
now that i’m dealing with it,
i believe it
i believe it
now can it
be over with?
January 15, 2024
vertigo
springs out of nowhere —
nausea
then dizziness
[then both]
[don’t underestimate them
together]
we feel for past kip,
we feel for louka,
we feel for current kip
as they navigate these rough seas,
this daily drammamine
this unknowledge of what will make things
a little better/
a lot worse
[cold packs/movement of any kind/egg drop soup/screens/ginger tea/overheating]
contemplating
how to work in a world
this way
waiting
for a day
when the vertigo might
go away
[go away!]
January 14, 2024
the soundtrack of our morning
includes:
skipped songs on a playlist
whenever they have words to them,
the soft stomps of a puppy
forcing me to play with her
and whatever toy she brings me,
the tippity taps of fingers on keys
from my poetry
and kip’s programming,
and the cat
somewhere
somewhere
in this building.
kipventures 