ugh
just
ugghhh
~~~
the eyes itch
and the nose sniffs
and the exhaustion hits
and it may just be allergies
it’s probably just allergies
but it still makes me want to
cry for hours or escape into the night
or simply sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep
~~~
i will say
at least my allergist
seemed just as confused
and almost as frustrated
as i am
when he told me
i’m just a big
question mark
down that coffee
chug that water
sprint down the stairs and
get ready for the day ahead
today
today
it will be
a day
[still kind of on
vacay
and spending time with kip
continuing traditions
and making new
and just do it
just get excited
and run run outrun the seasonal
depression
slowly invading your
head]
~~~
how come
this past
holiday season
i was unable to find
any
goddamn
candy canes
[of the candy cane flavor
variety]
?
[i found plenty
of skittles-flavored candy canes
and candy cane flavored
other things
but absolutely
zero
candy cane flavored
candy canes]
where did they all go?
has capitalism forced creativity
beyond our human wants and desires?
probably.
almost
definitely.
[well, at least our ai overlords
can enjoy the absurdity of our
‘ingenuity’
atop our burning bodies
after the world catches on fire
and the only water left
not contributing to coastal flooding
is being fed to them]
~~~
the problem
the problem
the problem is
i know
i know
i know our apocalypse
will be
so
so
so
slow
we won’t see it coming
we won’t acknowledge it here
we’ll just keep hoofing it to work
and buying our bagels
as our eyes slide past
broken infrastructure
and bodies in the street
until we’re about to be the body
and by then
it’ll be
too late
[and another person will walk past you
pretending
everything
everything
everything
is normal]
it feels
so silly to me
how i can only accomplish chores
when i’m actively avoiding
other
chores
[procrasinactivity
procrasticomplishment
can’t do a task? add a new/more time sensitive one
and watch yourself procrastinate that task
with the original one!]
[so much fun…!]
~~~
i can do it
i can do things
i can do scary scary things
i can do things that seem overwhelming
because, in the end
they tend to be
just things
and this is
just life
it’s all ephemeral
and liminal
and temporary
[what lasts may just be
vibes]
~~~
like, i mean, the vibrations you send out into the universe
i totally meant that
when i first
wrote it
evening poems
while william shatner
tells me all the unexplained mysteries
i should care about
but i simply
don’t
~~~
big yawns
and split-up sleep
and hopefully getting
the cat to eat
or take her meds
at least
[almost done with this trip
and i’m so excited to sleep
in my own bed
once again]
~~~
but seeing people has been absolutely lovely —
i wouldn’t exchange that
for anything
[even eight uninterrupted hours]
a family
a train ride
and thousands of sunflowers
in fields rolling past
at 266 km/h
and somehow it all reminds me of
van Gogh’s paintings
and how much i want to become
an impressionist
~~~
i just got so confused
as to why the baby in front of me
wasn’t crying in response to the
baby crying in the next train car over
and then i remembered that babies are not dogs
who bark and howl to be heard by others
of their species…
~~~
this whole trip
is a whirlwind
this whole life
kind of is
too
at least i have a train car
inside which to sit and write
all my silly poems
~~~
every
single
time
another train passes directly by
i
am
startled
~~~
there are
so many more palm trees
than i ever would have expected
in Europe
[i think that’s on me tho,
because climate is a known thing]
~~~
i think
if you’ve seen
any
van Gogh painting
of nature
or landscape
you’ve seen the full spirit of
what these trains speed past
when i think of an elephant, i see giant gentleness, i hear the stomps of their feet and the flapping of their ears, and i feel a sense of peace and safety
~~~
when i think of an elephant, i see mammoth past, i hear calls for connection for the present, i feel uncertainty for a future for them all
~~~
when i think of an elephant, i see a being, i hear a whole herd, i feel the lifetimes of their ancestors and descendants all around me
~~~
rsvp to The Elephant Play here
spectacular
spectacle
and spectacles help us all
see
wonders
in our own
and each others’
eyes
for once
for twice
for as many times
as we might find a rhyme
and/or reason
to climb
and explore
and discover
and become
one
with some sort of
happiness
[if we can
if we can]
~~~
there’s still a bit of
misalignment
when it comes to
my own self
and my poet self
and i cannot tell if that’s because
i don’t perform my own poetry enough
that it becomes as second nature as
acting
or aerial
or simply listening
but my own poetry
i have to remind myself
‘i made this
and it isn’t
half
bad’
~~~
or perhaps it’s because
i’m all self-taught
and i’m just flying by
the seat of my pants
and i can’t totally tell
what works and what’s a fail
except that
some poems flow like water
and some drip like sludge
and every now and then
i find a rhyme that tastes as good as it sounds
but i don’t know how i found any of that
it just happens
through trial and error
every
single
time
like i’m always starting
from one
can i just
pick up
where a poem left off?
~~~
and continue the poetry
will it still be magical?
will it still be me?
~~~
i mean, probably
it has to be
because it is still me
who’s writing all the words
right?
i don’t actually know what it means
to be
a great writer
a great poet
i’m just sitting here
at my messy dinner table
early in the morning
writing whatever comes to mind
as a way to encourage myself
to deal with the day
that is coming towards me
at breakneck speed
maybe,
when you’re in your ‘fighting a [seemingly] losing war
against fascism with the best tool you have —
kindness’ era
you’ll understand
~~~
i feel like this kind of morning
and this kind of writing
is the reason i started this challenge to begin with
i feel more awake
more aware
more ready to start my day
though i still need to edit and pick and send in the audition
i feel so much more prepared for it
now
~~~
“you look like such a writer!”
of my big sweater
comfy tee
glasses
bun
and coffee in hand
and i do, don’t i?
i do…
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
kipventures 