practicing french in the morning
chores at noon
spending time in the afternoon and evening
with my favorite kipperdoodledo
that’s what saturdays are all about
practicing french in the morning
chores at noon
spending time in the afternoon and evening
with my favorite kipperdoodledo
that’s what saturdays are all about
kip playing with music
a whole set up here at our
kitchen table
and something in me wants to create
is it music?
am i ready to hear my own voice
echoing back from me
via vocoder at least?
or am i more in the physical scheme
and want to cut and trim and sew and see
what kind of creation i can make with
my own two hands
or am i finally ready to write that book
i’ve been threatening to write
forever and a half
or is it the video series
or a play
or silly skits
on social media
[probably not that last one
if my mental health is any key
or indication, having done so well
these past few months
without
that curse looming over me
via my phone…]
[who knows]
[who knows]
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]
this morning’s
morning pages
are going quite
stiltedly
but at least we
are kips
in a kip house
at a kip table
with kip pets
all around us
about to eat some
kip breakfast day
talking
all morning
about silly business ideas
singing
all evening
about higher stakes lives
than our
own
friday the thirteenth
fridays the thirteenth
friday the thirteenths
fridays the thirteenths
any way you say it
we’re married because of it
[and i’m so happy with it,
even after all these years]
nine years
married
a married-a-versary
[in this world we’re living in]
but
queer joy is resistance
and showing resilience
and we can do it
while also
using our privilege to help others
in our
community
i don’t know how to stop my kip
from staring at their phone
reading the terrible news
and feeling worse
and worse
and worse
as the hours go by
because
if left to my own devices
i would stare at my phone
and watch videos of
on the ground tragedies
and feel worse
and worse
and worse
as the hours go by
and neither of us feeling worse
will change the things happening
halfway across the world
or right in our own backyard
we need to fill our cups
and have the hope
and energy
to put forth change
that will help
others
and ourselves
but
how
how
how
when everything feels so important
and hopeless
in the palms of our
hands?
Kip making music
on an OP-1
on top of a wooden table
with metal bars
supporting
running across to where i rest my foot,
and even through my thick bootie
i can feel the bass rumble through
into my bones
and i love it
finish up these pages
so the bagel can be eaten
so the laundry can be started
so the nap can be taken
so the cat meds can be obtained
so the lyra can be flown on
so the massage can be gotten
and so i can come back home
and be lonely
but not alone
[because these sweet animals
are my greatest buddies
besides my spouse]