i take one day off
from writing
in the morning
(though i still thought
in poetry
all day)
and i feel like i haven’t written
in weeks
poetry
June 12, 2022
show went fine
(maybe even great)
and now i get to stress about
a whole new performance
in a month
(why am i like this?)
June 11, 2022
puppies
playing
in the morning
the joy
it brings
me
gnaw on that rope!
chase that bouncy kong!
harass that hasslecat!
(the world is your dog park)
~~~
commotion:
the morning;
the coffee.
~~~
the promoting
of shows
always
stresses me
the buttz
out
(
https://www.eventbrite.com/e/aerial-arts-nyc-iaw-showcase-tickets-358998302587
if you want to zoom
in
)
June 10, 2022
i suppose the reason
i’m so damn nervous
about this upcoming performance
is because it’s the only one.
i can overthink
and over prepare
and over-wrack my nerves
because i’m not at the point
yet
where performing is just
my way of life
(it doesn’t help
that this is the first live one
since before the pandemic,
so the pressure
mounts
immeasurably)
June 9, 2022
how is my head
so good
at telling me what’s real,
but also
so sneaky
at telling me
what could be?
when my emotions are out of control,
when my logic has failed me,
my mind is the savior
who reminds me–
‘obsess not on the past
or the future;
life is life,
not a rehearsal,
not a rough draft,
chill here
and you will end up
enjoying it
i swear’
but when my emotions
are at the beginning
of fraught-ness,
my mind is the one
logic-ing me to terror:
‘even if this goes
the best it could possibly go,
there are still so many bad things
that could happen
as a result’
or
‘you’re feeling good–
need i remind you
that there are children starving
not just halfway around the world
but also down the street?
ah, i do need to remind you;
there are animals being uselessly abused,
others being wastefully killed,
the planet is dying,
and so are black people
at the the hands of those hired under the guise
of protection,
but now we know
that they are not legally required to do so.
but what of the people who still can’t see it–
as a white person, is it not your job
to tell those other white folks
how disastrous
and dangerous
their opinions plus their power
is?’
and on and on and on and on
my mind saving me from myself
and then serving me up on a silver platter
for my anxieties to take over
subject matter by subject matter
and the cycle continues
(and i at least know how much
i hate
circles)
June 8, 2022
i’ve been reading a book
about great poet-scientists
of the last few centuries,
and within these last few chapters of the book
the author (and voices from the past)
have assessed
that the greatest authors–
the greatest poets
are ones
who are
open
and honest
with their
emotion
and i think i am not yet there.
my poetry is very head-y.
most poems appear in my head
as something like
‘i think’
not at all
‘i feel’
and maybe that is my access to my emotions
[head to heart to body]
and, although i’d like to get there someday,
i really don’t think i am quite there
yet
even my depression
is very thought-based;
a reaction to an over-thinking mind
that won’t shut up about
all the pains and sufferings in the world
and how i could do something about it
if only i were as powerful as i
thought myself to be
so i’m not yet there
emotionally
in my poetry,
but someday
i may be
and when that happens,
y’all had better look out
(because i’ve had so much practice
with these mind-based poems of mine,
my emotion-based art will be
so great)
…(or, watch, it’ll read
like a three-
year-old
wrote it)
(but that’ll be ok
because it will be mine.
and it will
it will
it will be
honest)
June 7, 2022
my stomach
is twisted–
torqued toward itself.
is it nerves?
is it stress?
(was it hunger?)
could it be
all of the
above?
June 6, 2022
once again
i am stuck
pondering
what in the world
i’d thought of
to write
last night
when this morning
my brain
doesn’t seem to light
up
with any words
or concepts
or phrases
just stages
of grief
over lost
concepts
June 5, 2022
we’ve repurposed a large tupperware container
into where we put all the pieces of paper
and threads of former toys
computer has ripped through
with her sharp puppy teeth
and we call it her art collection
and i love it
we also have
two of her puppy teeth,
molars that fell
outside
rather than down the throat,
and we’re thinking of putting them
in her art jar as well
because she did make them
and they are
art
~~~
the puppy has learned
that the top of the soft crate
can help her see
over the room-fence-divider,
and also
can keep her cool
on hot summer days
(now to see how long
the zippered canvas
will hold her weight
as she grows…)
~~~
Louka
was cat-like
in the way that she was
not very dog-like
Computer
is very cat-like
in many mannerisms
and play-approaches
and active qualities
(the passive
and the active
cat-like qualities)
(meanwhile our cat
is more monkey
than any other creature,
so…)
June 4, 2022
hammock days
(the relax, not the circus)
under the mosquito net
on top of the shade umbrella
a perfect
Bronx
morning
~~~
it feels weird
writing morning
poems
on a deck
so far from
the regular
place
but fuck it,
it’s
lovely
~~~
the soft netting
weaves
in the breeze
(you don’t need to find any metaphors,
comparisons
or similes
that it is like;
it is just itself)
the bird calls
intermingle
with the spotify playlist
of classical
(or indie)
(or ‘garden music’)
(whatever that means)
and the netting hides us from
the other creatures
who call our yard
home
~~~
is the mosquito netting
hiding us
from the squirrels and birds and other such wildlife
or are the animals simply getting used to our
presence?
(or does it matter
when the morning
is this
damn
gorgeous
?)
~~~
and what of the sun
not shaded
by the umbrella?
(to burn
or not to burn,
that is the question.)
(and sunscreen is
the answer)
kipventures 