June 23, 2021

another adventure
another setting out
this time for something
not quite as happy
but hopefully fulfilling
and connecting
and kind.

~~~

there are studies
that show
the earlier you deal with death
the better
(or so much worse)
you are at handling any death
as an adult.

i solidly fall into the second category,
my brain short circuiting whenever death is present
whenever someone is grieving
my go-to comfort is
to leave them alone.

but when you’re not a pre-teen
figuring out exactly what you need,
most folks would opt for connection
for a few words of comfort
not alone time.

so
after months of watching back episodes of
“Ask a Mortician”
and
reading her books
and
listening to her podcast
i’ve figured out a better way of dealing with death:

i ask the grieving person
what their favorite memory is of their loved one.
i specify they don’t have to share with me,
(but i’d be happy to hear if they choose),
but to simply think of their favorite memory.

i’ve only had two opportunities to use it so far,
but both felt connective,
kind,
and i felt useful
(all i really want to feel anyway)

so,
anyone grieving,
(or having gone through grief),
what’s your favorite memory of that person?

~~~

our dog
staring at her food
for minutes upon minutes
as if she’s having an existential crisis

(what a way for the universe to show us she belongs with us)

June 20, 2021

though we all loved the green
and the adventures
and the folks
we saw last week
(Louka especially)
i, for one, feel more myself
with this particular cat
back on my lap
once more.

~~~

motion alarms
sometimes useful
sometimes just a bee
trying to say ‘hi’

~~~

ranked choice voting
is here
(the giant booklet tells us)

early voting ends today
and though we will still be in town
for the actual election
we’ll probably vote early

because who knows what’ll happen on tuesday
but at least we know that
we’re free today

June 18, 2021 (part 2)

who really is
good
at goodbyes?

~~~

when i visit new places
i associate certain parts of them
with places i’ve been before

“this area reminds me of the east side of Madison”
“this one gives me big Toronto energy”
“well, this is like if Milwaukee and Cleveland had a baby…”

on and on,
until i see something truly unique,
or i’ve been there long enough
to associate it with itself.

~~~

stomach aches
is it packing stress?
is it travel anxiety?
is it getting back into the “real” world?

or is it the apprehension of expectation for more adventure
now that we’re both vaccinated and activated?

June 18, 2021

fixed the coffee maker
got so excited
messed it up a different way

new mistakes

~~~

interesting that i poem
about the banal
when i wish for such adventure
in my life

is it simply because poetry
is usually more introspective
than not?

(unless, of course, we are talking old school,
whole story,
epic poetry)

or is its because
i want to get a bit better
and poetry-ing
before i go on such excursions
with words?

~~~

of course
(of course)
i cannot have a short poem day
with only two.
the third poem is what
ties it all together
and makes my anxiety
settle down
(just a bit)

June 16, 2021 (part 2)

when one is not plagued
by friendship degradation mechanics
a special vacation
to see old friends
can nearly immediately
feel abnormally normal
to the point where
you kind of forget
where you are
or how old you are
(or everything else that has happened these last few years
when folks ask how your life has been…)

~~~

driving
still equals freedom
but the freedom
explored
in the united states of america
isn’t really that free
(when was it ever?)

~~~

how are toddlers
both
straight up babies
and tiny real humans
at the same time?

June 13, 2021 (part 2)

our dog
is a beach dog
but not an ocean dog

although

she treats the sand like snow,
rolling around in it,
licking it up and eating it,
rolling around some more in order to get out of her eyes that sand from the first roll

and even though we had to pull her away from that joy,
and even though we had to rinse out her eyes so they would stop swelling,
it was worth it to see her jump around like a puppy
(and to see folks’ faces erupt in surprise when we tell them
“this dog is thirteen years old [today]!”)

~~~

i didn’t realize
love languages show up
so early

but damn if that
less-than-two-year-old
didn’t hand off his juice,
and blanket,
and bag of apples
the minute he decided
he liked us.

~~~

arriving home
far too late
making eye contact
with a young buck
as he munches on leaves,
hardly concerned we’re twenty feet away
(as my dog remains frozen with the decision
of whether to chase this creature
as friend or prey)

June 9, 2021

a sudden
desolate
feeling

(from where?)
(is it fear?)
(is it unknowns?)
(is it this music?)
(is it simply brain chemistry
once again?)

~~~

i have scores
of unfinished poems
on complex concepts:
identity,
isms (race and otherwise),
individuality,
depression,
misgendering,
gender euphoria,
magical summers,
myself,
others,
and on and on and on
and i hope to some day share them;
feel confident enough in what i’ve already written,
come to some sort of conclusion that helps the poem
stay
important,
feel like the poem expresses what a
Big Concept
should truly express,
but for now i keep slugging along
writing little poems
about my morning
and hoping that
some day
i’ll feel awake enough
to really sift through
those big poems
again.

~~~

i have a secret to tell you
(shh, don’t tell anyone else)
i usually write more than one poem
a morning,
but i’ll save the poem that doesn’t have the right
‘feel’
for that morning
for a different morning,
a morning when i can’t express myself in poetry
(or a morning where i’ve expressed myself too well,
and the poems feel too personal
to share on this here poetry blog),
and i find a secondary poem
from a day long since passed (past?)
and i appropriate it
for that day
to have something to share
to have something to post
(and,
as an overly-honest person,
i wonder if i should make note of these,
write at the bottom
“this poem originally conceived of on ________ date”
but i haven’t yet,
because this poem a day thing is for me,
and posting for others is secondary,
so if i want a record of when poems were written
and when poems were placed elsewhere,
i’d write it down within my drafts
(i already do)
but maybe,
as this blog is a solid gathering
of poems i am ok with being public,
i could indicate this,
also for my own records
just in a different spot…?
maybe?)

May 30, 2021

due dates
coming up
deadlines
when are they?

i feel in my gut
june 1st
(but also
maybe
may 30?)

the problem with thinking
“maybe apply to this,
maybe not…”
is that i don’t have a solid
“do this by this time”
i just have a vague
reminiscence
idea
memory
of a date and a thing
and nothing solid
(and nothing gets applied,
because i can never remember
any
specifics)

~~~

there are still poems swirling around in my head
that i feel i should make something out of
this storm in my psyche
but even when i write it out
the tempest is still there
and does that mean i’m never actually done pondering that subject matter
or does it mean that i can’t get everything into a poem that i could in prose
or does it mean that i’ll never ever capture my thoughts fully into words?

~~~

clean up
post
transform to lower case
post
read over quickly
post
decision
post
decision
post
decision
post
(is the posting taking the fun out of poetry?)
(or at least the honesty?)

May 18, 2021

i guess i could…
use my morning pages time
to read and edit and rewrite and post
all the poems that have come thus far ?

maybe?

~~~

quietly track the purring
in rhythm with the caffeine beats
thumping [softly] out of these
shitty laptop speakers

the aesthetics you always thought you’d have
you surpassed with unexpected privilege
leaving you with the existential question

why?

~~~

and unrelatedly
why
does organizing
make me feel so much better?
.
. .
. . .
(i know why;
it’s because my brain is the opposite of organized.)

May 17, 2021

everything
is getting grey
while the sun shines brighter and brighter
and i want to be able to see the sun
and the sky
and the stars
but nothing seems recognizable anymore

(and staring at the sun is real bad for your eyes)

~~~

humor
within
tragedy

is it a sign of good writing
or just deeper seeded depression

~~~

smaller poems
capturing
greater feelings

[isn’t/wasn’t that the aim all along?]