grey skies and
drip drops on window panes and
the perfect day to nap your stress away
and
the perfect evening to be lulled into deep deep sleep
~~~
evening pages
much much later than normal poetry time
[am i just doing this
to say that i did it?]
[isn’t that all life is anyway?]
~~~
i think
three
poems is enough poems
for such a late late night
poem-writing-time
as humans
we
contiain multitudes
and math jazz does, too
i’m writing so much
but i have so little to show for it
for it’s all poem-to-do-lists
and commentary on previous writing
and ideas for future writing
and i would like to stick to today
from this moment on, okay?
what if
my april fools prank
was convincing anyone who tries any april fools nonsense
that april fools no longer exists
[believable, by way of executive order]
welcome, me,
i say to myself, out loud
because i can’t seem to
get on my own side
without making it a show
for someone
else
[that feels like an important lesson to have sink in]
i don’t know what i’m waiting for
but i’m waiting
i’m waiting
burning hands
burning feets
burning face
how mystique
mistaken and confused
my kip’s nerve endings are being
have been
the last few weeks
[i hope we find out soon what’s going on]
i just want to run around in a field
or forest
without having to worry
about taxes
or dinners
or interpersonal relationships
except for those i create in my mind
where is my idyllic adulthood?
prioritize stories
instead of
impressions
[or something]
committing to the bit
is all my life really is
[why has it taken me this long
to find clowning
as an art form
to love?]
kipventures 