September 22, 2022

i think it’s so funny
when people are funny
about their dog’s gender

the dog
doesn’t care
only you care
only you

~~~

but maybe that’s the source
right?
it doesn’t matter what the misgendered person’s gender is
it doesn’t matter how they feel at all
it’s all about the
person
in power—
the parent
or owner
or law maker

am i right?

~~~

experimentation
with imperfection
with writing
without rewriting
with whimsy
and morning brain
and coffee-less veins
and only a little bit
of contemplation
before composition
before posting
again

September 21, 2022

is there any use
in continuing
little habits
on a day
when it feels like
everything is out of control
(but somehow you made it this way?)

~~~

big feels
little poems
tiny words

you got it

~~~

the leaves
are changing
on the tree outside–
each green
bordered with a red
literally
glowing
in the morning sun
waving to me
in a gentle breeze
and letting me know
this autumn
will be
safe

~~~

breaking up big topics
into bite-sized pieces

the poetry way

~~~

the problem
(one of them)
with having such a vast array
of works
is that i don’t know
which one
two
or three
to send in
to potentially be
published

(especially these little bois—
where
and how
do they
belong?)

~~~

self
publishing?

(it is an option)

September 19, 2022

sleeping better
with only one dog
but damn do i miss
all those cuddles

~~~

let’s
get back
into the habit
we’ve established
all these days

k?

~~~

is it nerves
is it too much food
(is it too little?)
(or is there something
actually wrong
wth me?)

the questions
of a saga
of a never-ending
stomach ache

September 18, 2022

how am i
so good at hinting
in poetry–
‘whining the whole night’
an indication
of no rest/
stressful sleep/
loud noises/
what exhaustion comes
the morning after/
etc.

but i can’t just show
and not tell/
indicate
and not explain/
let the reader
figure it out
in fiction

why???

September 14, 2022

when i show friends
these words
there is an unspoken trust
and an irrational fear

the trust is to read
the fear is that they
have read

but the fear is also
of breaking of trust
that i am still somehow
too much
and not enough
too many poems
not enough time
in our society
that has no reason or rhyme
for when you’re allowed to just sit
and ponder poetry
and when you have to be hustling
because with self-care culture
relaxation has become another side hustle
and being in the moment
is simply a competition
to see who does it
‘right’

but i digress
and am getting ahead of myself
(or really, beside,
because i’m not sure where this poem
was trying to align itself
to begin with)

whenever i show
a friend
a loved one
this here poetry blog
i am both terrified
that they’ll read it
and terrified
that they won’t

maybe i should publish
the first year
just so new folks
have context
for the rest of this
craziness