this vibe
of music
of cello and piano and drum
of experimenting with the strings
and riffing on the keys
and the steady, floating and capturing beat underneath
is exactly the vibe i need
for this morning
[let’s hear it for modern jazz]
this vibe
of music
of cello and piano and drum
of experimenting with the strings
and riffing on the keys
and the steady, floating and capturing beat underneath
is exactly the vibe i need
for this morning
[let’s hear it for modern jazz]
a poem to call to waking
the brain that’s still sedated
for what is more startling
than words not expecting
and an intellectual search in the mind-house
’tis the season
for my skin to start
hating
everything
[perhaps i should start bringing some lotion
with me, solely for post-circus purposes]
the things seen
so far not
coming into my dreams
[but have i even been asleep long enough
to fully enter rem
and dream
yet?]
spooky season
starting out with
the scariest thing of all:
Grand Jury Duty
not only is today
an anniversary
for the kips,
it also marks
four and a half years
of
every
single
day
poetry-writing
[and sharing
here]
feeling insane
for having sane responses
to an absolutely
batshit
crazy ass
timeline
i honestly
don’t understand
me
when one smacks a mosquito
good and full against
an arm or a leg or a wall or a table
there often remains
a dusty shadow of the mosquito
as if to say
“here is the evidence that you’ve taken a life,
now deal with it.”
am i,
for the first time in my
entire
entire
life,
looking forward to the
cooler weather
?