hilarious
to me
that i recognized that one song
couldn’t place it
couldn’t place it
went to the internet
it almost didn’t help me
and then
like a light at the end of a
long, cold, dark tunnel
reddit user
simply stated
“Spooky Lake Tiktok”
and i am saved from
racking my brain about that
all damn day
[and i get to revel
in the spookiness]
we are all just trying
to get along
get along
get along
with ourselves
with our neighbors
with our coworkers and family and friends
get along by getting along
isn’t that how it
always is
i think
my belated new year’s resolution
is to find the place/space/state of mind
that allows me to write
more this year
how much more need i write
before my beloved bagels
arrive?
i keep feeling
almost
ready to write
like i
almost
have a concept i’m happy with
or i have
almost
found the optimal writing situation/
location/
time of day/
mood/
lighting/
sound/
something/
etc.
but
if imperfection is what i’m looking for
in the product
then perhaps
i should look for that, too
in the process
click your heels together
and say
“there’s no place
like home
there’s no place
like home”
but if home isn’t a place
it’s a feeling
it’s a space for you to
know your own true you
aren’t the heels simply clicking
on the road
to your friends
your clique
your crew
your coconspirators
and comrades
and found family?
is that the truth?
at least our animals exist
i don’t know how much of the outside world
i could survive
knowing about,
if i didn’t have giant puppy dog eyes
and happy puppy tails
and gentle cat purrs
and quaint cat meows
and wonderful little animal cuddles
to come home to every day
[or even stay home with
when the world is too much]
[how in the world do folks without pets
(and with depression)
survive?]
once again
feeling like i’m cosplaying
adulthood
[but also like everyone else might be, too]
this poem will
[likely]
take the place of the poem that was supposed to go
on my silly poetry blog
yesterday
and though i am not writing it
on the date it says at the top
it is still a poem i am posting here
[and i did, technically, write poetry yesterday
just not quite enough
and nothing i felt was
whole
enough
to post]
and what did i do yesterday
that prevented me from writing
all 300 of my poetry words
and taking the time to post
my silly blog post writings?
i had conversations
with my kip
the love of my life
as we enjoyed a distraction from
morning everyday routines
and the terror that is happening everywhere
while we dealt with the terror of
bodies
not cooperating
and puppies
asking to play
[that one’s not a terror though,
that one there is
absolutely delightful]
and just had a bit of a reset
with communication
and a bagel
and a fig bar
so that’s what i did yesterday…
what will happen today?
seeing other folks’ art
is always so cool
and makes me want to write too
but i feel like i either
have nothing specific to write about
or too much in my brain
ready to all come out in some sort of
cacophonous stew
[but the brilliance of this metaphor
is that stew still has discernible parts
that can be picked away from the whole,
so maybe i should just try
and maybe one vegetable
will grow
a garden of a play
someday]
kipventures 