letting my brain
rest
for a second
it’s not nearly as
easy as
it sounds
thinking
April 10, 2022
sometimes
i wonder…
[that’s it
that’s the poem
i am often wondering
and it could be good
and it could be bad
and it could be neutral
and it could be all-encompassing
and it could be overwhelming
and it could be minute
and it could be obsessive
and it could be passing
but damn near all of the time
i
am
wondering]
March 14, 2022
i don’t have
many memories
from childhood
an iconic moment here
a rush of emotion there
the things that i did all summer
bundled into one specific instance
mostly
{like my thoughts}
i have
vibes
generally
my memories
consist of the
aura
of childhood
of carefree freedom
imagination
the feeling of being
too big for that tiny body
to old for this world
(or maybe too big for this small world
and too old for that young body)
and as my memories age out
from childhood
to tween,
pre-teen,
teenage-hood,
young-adulthood
the memories get darker
angstier
and even the vibes
are less clear
the older i got
the swirlier the emotions became
until something happened
and i feel like i burst forth
from a cauldron of muck
and murky emotions
and became fully me
[when did that happen?
when i hit my stride in my early/mid 20’s?
when i chopped off all my hair
and started caring less
about what i was ‘supposed to’ be?
when i finally birthed myself out of the
strong-arm of academia?
when i met kip?
when i figured out i was non-binary?
when i started feeling more like i did
at 9?
(even though, emotionally, i do still have times/days/stints
of 19-year-old me?)]
memories are fickle
and i feel as though mine might be
fickler than most
but hey,
the vibes of my childhood,
overall,
they were simply
exquisite.
January 5, 2022
i think
and think
and think and think and think
and i plan poems while outside
walking with my good dog
and yet,
after pre-bed rituals,
and cajoling animals upstairs,
and leaving the video player window
on this here computer,
and entering the blank document space,
as soon as i’m ready
set
get to writing
all things
(and thinks)
have left
and i’m left
with
writing about writing about writing about writing about…
[you get the picture]
July 31, 2021
thirty days have september,
april,
june,
and november
all the rest have thirty-one
except february which completely fucks us up and every four years gets even a little bit more complicated because time is a mortal construction and probably not as linear as people make it out to be…
i see my friends
open themselves up to the universe
to give and receive and the universe complies
sending platonic connections from years and years past,
sheltering under iridescent wingspans
and holding safe a space for baby queers;
we are the ancestors we wish we’d had
(and we do have those ancestors,
they just may not be blood)
the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb
isn’t it great how the actual saying is saying the opposite of what everyone who says it thinks they are saying?
there are a lot of things like that in this world, aren’t there?
(and do we even need to live our lives by sayings made up by humans long since dead?)
i’m still finding my way
slowly opening myself up to the universe,
trying not to ask it too greedily,
as i’m still scared it’s not real,
i’m too much of an atheist/agnostic to trust in anything outside of myself
(but, one might point out, the universe could simply be a part of ourselves that is unknown,)
and we are far more connected to one another than we think we are,
so maybe those connections are the universe
and each other are the spiritual guides,
but all of these are very ‘what if’
very potential answers
but not definites,
and it is too early for this kind of contemplation to make 100% sense
(and i was definitely up too early to be too comprehensible to others)
so we can just write this
and post it
and throw it out into the universe
and know that our place in it is constantly changing
and at times you need the guidance
and at others you are the guide
and it constantly changes
and change is good
scary
but good.
July 30, 2021
when pondering
my overthinking
i can often track my issues back
a few layers
and then i get stuck.
“here’s where i am!”
i yell to the universe,
“i’ve figured myself out now,
can i fix myself next?”
they always say
“knowing is half the battle”
but i’ve known for ages.
but when i start to think critically,
instead of with absurd abundance,
i see some more layers underneath
the ones i’ve already detected,
and these are more fragile,
ticking time bombs,
connected to everything
inside my brain/body/spirit,
and this, i think to myself, may be the actual half
of knowing…
but i’m wary of this knowledge
so i’ll be careful,
tip-toe around it,
but at least i’m peaking in
instead of running away
and staying in the layer
that’s comfortable,
that makes sense,
that i feel there is some possibility for change
…this layer has the possibility for healing.
July 15, 2021
i’ve started thinking
in poetry.
(even when i wrote in prose
every single morning,
i still only rarely would ponder in words;
usually as a way to plan out
how to describe a certain feeling,
or express a certain something
out loud
to another human being.)
but i’ve started having
words,
phrases,
in poetical form
pop into my head
riding the Q train,
pounding the streets of manhattan,
seeing the sun set
over Prospect Park
and i don’t know how i feel about this…
i, who have always felt some sort of
vindicated otherness
from not thinking in words
(as, i suspect, a slim majority of people do)
but it does bring me joy,
feeling more connected
to this art form.
kipventures 