falling asleep
writing music in my mind
what a perfect metaphor
what an inspirational line
the rhyme scheme, incomparable
the tune passionate, flawless,
and i promise to remember it
when my eyes open
once more.
what was it again?
…lost it.
falling asleep
writing music in my mind
what a perfect metaphor
what an inspirational line
the rhyme scheme, incomparable
the tune passionate, flawless,
and i promise to remember it
when my eyes open
once more.
what was it again?
…lost it.
the mornings i have something to say
but really only the concept at hand
sans the ability to say it
are the weirdest mornings for me—
i can glance around
and be inspired
by the puppy
or the pillows surrounding me
or the music pounding itself
into the beats of each
heart
thump
thump
thump
but i won’t ever be satisfied
with the potential
when i know a full universe of poetry
is hiding somewhere inside of me
if i could only
access it
find the key
to my very being
it would come spilling
drip, stream, rushing
pushing poems upon poems
with each press of my pulse
on a lettered key
but i feel lost
i feel in the dark in my own soul
i feel like i may never know
my inside insights
in full…
it’s always interesting to me
to see loud queers in the wild.
while it no longer feels as it did in the
early 2000’s—
where each tiny indication
screamed so loudly
but only we could hear;
where acknowledging each other
on the street
seemed a sacred secret
shared by head nods
and the rare smile
at even rarer held hands.
these days there seems to be
more queer
than not queer
(at least here, in nyc)
but there’s still a moment
for rainbow hair
and rainbow Keith Haring button-up
to share
mutual
queer
joy
from across a crowded 1 train
and be completely delighted
by each other
through eye-crinkling smiles
(the kind seen even behind masks)
and hands making heart-shapes,
asl thank you’s,
and waves goodbye.
and i think that’s
beautiful.
to write songs
tragic
manic
to write words
to sing
again
to write tunes
and times
and make it all rhyme
and why
can’t i
write
songs?
the same imagination
that skews to
worst-case scenarios
and all the dire ways
we could all be fucked
in this society of ours
is the same one that shows me
there’s more to life than just
consumption
and
competition,
that encourages me to find
better solutions to terrible problems,
that proves to me
there are better
more equitable
more humane
societies
than this…
every coin
has two sides
this sword
has both edges
black must stand out amongst white
and we all know yin
and yang
aren’t balanced
if they’re not
together
[but sometimes i wish
this imagination would just
let me rest]
cats
in the back-
-yard
meowling
for attention
for love
for kittens
for food
for us
[we hope]
interesting how poetry
is catalyzed by the most
and the least loved
in our lives
mushrooms
and tree leaves
and images only i can see
my head fills to the brim with
delights
and devestation
and it’s no wonder
the bright devouring
of death
of fungi
are what i connect with
best
~~~
my therapist often rephrases links
of two seemingly disparate ideas
from “but”
to “and”
and
it has helped me in my own journey
to temper my black and white thinking
and see the world for the shades of grey
it truly is
~~~
queer icons
rainbow capitalism
greedy estates
but accessible designs and an un-kept gate
fuck
everything really is a shade of grey
birthdays
people
seasons
come and go
but the energy around us
extends
all the way back to stardust
and all the way forward
far beyond
us
these mornings
these poems
they all slip together
to become something akin to
a giant gentle monster
overwhelming
overshadowing
but still cuddly as anything
(cuddly as me)
and i don’t know if this beast is one
i could ever tame
or if it needs to be free
wild
as uncontrollable
and uncontrolled
as i so desperately want to be