or needn’t poetry have a point?
we’re all just bumbling through
in these systems we’ve created
everything is made up
and maybe
that’s why i create
[because i’m not allowed to make whole new systems
so i make words fit my needs
rather than
the other way around]
[or something]
i’m not really feeling writing
but i’m not really feeling
not writing
either
guess i’ll just
meander about this document
with words
[because that’s not writing
but it’s definitely not
not writing
right?]
sometimes
subjects will mull around in my brain
for days
weeks
maybe months
[sometimes years]
before i write them down
in poem form
it’s like steeping a tea full of thoughts
so that, when i go to write it, it’s actually flavorful enough to taste
and perhaps taste is the way words come to me
[i do care about mouth-feel]
and expression is as much about
the emotion
as it is
the explanation
so the next time i’m pondering a subject matter
and think to myself “why haven’t i written it out yet?”
i can just answer
“it’s still stewing
still steeping
still brewing
give it time
give it time
it’ll taste better
with a little more time
[have you ever
not
written it out?]”
one word to get across the finish line
of a word count goal
that is all mine
and i did it
just for me
just for me
playing with form
[but maybe not
function] in order
to make my poetry
function as more
than just words
on a [digital] page
not feeling the morning page poetry
this morning
but that doesn’t mean
i won’t do it
i mean
i continue to do this
every
single
morning
whether i’m in the mood or not
just to have something to do
just to have a habit to latch onto
just to have some proof
to say
‘i was here, i had thoughts and feelings and insights, too’
and maybe someone will read them soon
and maybe someone will read them in hundreds of years
and maybe
because they’re all digital
they’ll disappear into the ether
but
maybe the ether will get a kick out of all these poems
and they and the void can talk about me
behind my back
when i’m long long long gone
sometimes you just gotta end
a poem
when it decides it’s time
to end
pondering poetry
pensively pensating in poetical form
what is poetry if not
words hanging out on a jungle gym
just waiting for their moment
to show off
can i just
pick up
where a poem left off?
~~~
and continue the poetry
will it still be magical?
will it still be me?
~~~
i mean, probably
it has to be
because it is still me
who’s writing all the words
right?
i don’t actually know what it means
to be
a great writer
a great poet
i’m just sitting here
at my messy dinner table
early in the morning
writing whatever comes to mind
as a way to encourage myself
to deal with the day
that is coming towards me
at breakneck speed
maybe,
when you’re in your ‘fighting a [seemingly] losing war
against fascism with the best tool you have —
kindness’ era
you’ll understand
~~~
i feel like this kind of morning
and this kind of writing
is the reason i started this challenge to begin with
i feel more awake
more aware
more ready to start my day
though i still need to edit and pick and send in the audition
i feel so much more prepared for it
now
~~~
“you look like such a writer!”
of my big sweater
comfy tee
glasses
bun
and coffee in hand
and i do, don’t i?
i do…
kipventures 