three poem day

June 4, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

hammock days
(the relax, not the circus)
under the mosquito net
on top of the shade umbrella
a perfect
Bronx
morning

~~~

it feels weird
writing morning
poems
on a deck
so far from
the regular
place

but fuck it,
it’s
lovely

~~~

the soft netting
weaves
in the breeze

(you don’t need to find any metaphors,
comparisons
or similes
that it is like;
it is just itself)

the bird calls
intermingle
with the spotify playlist
of classical
(or indie)
(or ‘garden music’)
(whatever that means)

and the netting hides us from
the other creatures
who call our yard
home

~~~

is the mosquito netting
hiding us
from the squirrels and birds and other such wildlife
or are the animals simply getting used to our
presence?

(or does it matter
when the morning
is this
damn
gorgeous
?)

~~~

and what of the sun
not shaded
by the umbrella?

(to burn
or not to burn,
that is the question.)
(and sunscreen is
the answer)

June 3, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i [might] have
hit the point
where my body of work is
Prolific
[but quantity doesn’t indicate quality]
[though practice makes perfect—
or
at the very least permanent—]

and is it actually
Prolific
if i am the only one
aware
of it all?

~~~

400+ days of writing
poetry
every morning

a solid amount of those mornings
(like this very one)
Three-Poem-Days
and even more housing
multiple drafts of multiple poems
not yet seen by
The Internet

but if i’m simply writing free-form/
stream of consciousness/
‘do it but don’t worry about it’
kinds of things,
churning
but not editing/
or revising/
or analyzing/
or anything of the sort

does that not become
at some point
Junk?

~~~

my greatest poem
within this experiment
was seen by more people
but has not been posted here.

a slam poem written
from a prompt
intended for a monologue
(originally from a spell)

i learned (from that poem) that prompts are friends
and a one-week due-date
with daily revisions
and one solid subject matter
are useful in my creative process

i am actively proud of that poem
and i want to write more like it
(with the passion/
and verse/
and poetical devices/
and wholeness)
so why do i not
actively
seek out
prompts,
nor let myself
take time
to edit
any of these
anymore?

May 5, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

even though you’re feeling sad
drink the coffee
do the writing

even though everything feels hopeless
drink the coffee
make the plans

even though you’d rather sleep and sleep and sleep
drink the coffee
do the day

little bursts of serotonin
may or may not add up
into an almost livable amount
of serotonin
for one mind
but at least those little bursts of serotonin
will help
for a second
or two

so

even thought it all seems so pointless
drink the coffee
eat the cookie
write the poem
talk with the spouse
play with the puppy
get out of the house
and fake it till you make it:
life edition.

~~~

yikes.

(the feels that made
that poem)

~~~

wanderlust
wanderhome
wander to me
go right now
i am waiting
arms outstretched
to feel you in them
once again
wanderlust
wanderhome
wander towards
never feeling
so alone.

May 3, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

it is
very
hard to concentrate this morning

and i don’t know if it’s from
the stress of last night
or
the vividness of the dreams
or
the sadness of this morning
or
the lack of coffee in my bloodstream
or what

but

it is
very
extremely
extraordinarily
bizarrely
quite
hard to concentrate this morning.

~~~

i feel like i’m getting a better handle
on what makes my poetry
my poetry

(but i really have
absolutely
no idea
still
about what makes any poetry
‘good poetry’)

~~~

i would like to write
another
slam poem;
start a flow
and just go,
balance out the rhythm and rhyme
with internal structure,
alliteration,
and find
the transitions,
the cues,
from one section
to anther,
playing with words
and meaning
and framing
the repeating
as metaphor
as a tool
as a lock to turn the key
and find out something new
about me,
about life,
about our home planet earth,
and our collective strife
to stay alive
when all we want
is eternal sleep
(not necessarily because
death is the answer we’re looking for,
but because all these
isms
and power structures
and so-ingrained made up concepts
keep us so wide awake
that sleep seems a necessity
we never get to get
[when was the last time you had
an actual
honest to goodness
no stress
very good
night’s sleep?]

so i guess
that’s what this poem’s about:
the collective trauma
that is
white supremacy/capitalism/america
and how the one thing
that could give us
the fight
we need
to dismantle it
is the the thing
it keeps us
from doing
every
single
night.

(and are my daytime naps
my making up
for this lack,
or is that just a symptom
of the depression
my awareness
of these systems
gives me?)
((or is that a subject
for another poem
for another day?))

April 25, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

dreams
of memories
of happy times
(and sad)
of the task still yet to be fulfilled
(the telling of all the neighbors
that Louka
is gone)

but yes, this puppy makes things
ever so slightly easier

and this morning i told her
“you know, Louka was surrounded by so much love
and you are too, now, in this house
yes, there is a ton of sadness still inside
but there is
so
much
love
for you,
Computer”

~~~

i’m more awake
than i have been
in days
(perhaps weeks)
and yet
i know not
at all
what i’d like to write
(or what’s in my brain
that needs to get out)

this afternoon will be
one week
without Louka,
our love,
but 48 hours with Computer,
a new source
for all the love
that had nowhere to go,
and i’ve been writing so much
about all these emotions
but i’m sure i have others;
anxiety is still there
as is depression
as is freedom when flying for circus
as is annoyance when walking through tourist areas of nyc
(how do non-new yorkers walk so damn slow
and
take up the entirety of the sidewalk???)
and perhaps i can add accomplishment
to my listing of emotions
if i actually write some emails
and catch up with some professionals today
so i can say
i’ve kept up with my career
though i’ve been in mourning
and training,
in saying goodnight
and nice to meet you,
and getting to know this new creature
and grieving and grieving and grieving…

i know i needed this past week
to wallow
to be swallowed
by all the emotions that swelled up inside
by giving my whole heart to a four-legged creature
for the last nearly 8 years of my life,
to feel the sadness as it needed to be felt
(instead of ignoring/working through/putting off the whole process
like i’ve always done
that’s always felt so unhealthy)
(did Louka teach us more than just how to be good dog parents?
did she also teach us how to fully deal with loss?)

and yes, one week is not enough,
Louka was such a good dog,
such an important dog,
such a special, unique, kind, gentle, dog,
such my dog
that i’m sure i’ll feel her memories
presence
and a sadness at her physically not being close
for the rest of my life,
but letting it consume me
in a way that felt like loss,
not like regret,
was a lesson i’ll keep with me
forever.

what a good dog.

~~~

i’ve simply been writing things
as they come
as they come up
as i’m overtaken
and i haven’t done much editing
or revising
before placing my thought-stream
onto the poetry-blog

and i hope this is what i need right now
(it sure seems like it is,
otherwise
why would i be doing it?)

April 24, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

we met Louka at a shelter,
and took her home from a petsmart
a few days later,
signing the paperwork,
telling that scared dog that
with us
would be her forever home

we met a puppy yesterday
at a petsmart,
and took her home the same day,
and i brought Louka with me in my heart,
and the puppy rolled around on the ground
the first chance she got
just like Louka loved doing,
and the puppy showed Louka in her tail.
and, blocking out my brain
and only speaking with my heart and gut
i said,
“i love this dog”

so, Computer, with us
is your forever home,
and Louka will always be
watching over and protecting all of us.

~~~

royalty free music
dings and dongs in predictable songs
the cadences rise and fall in ways that satisfy
(but don’t challenge)
the ear
perfect for commercials or elevators or actors’ filmic reels
royalty free
music

~~~

i’ve been
feeling
emoting
crying
weeping
remembering
telling
typing
showing
loving
this past week

and i know this puppy will never replace Louka
(i’d never, ever want that in a million years)
but she is making the grieving process
just a little bit easier.
so, time,
and Computer,
help me remember Louka with fondness and love
rather than with pain and love

April 22, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

even though
it’s getting slightly easier
every day,
it sure is hard.

~~~

trying to write
about not Louka
(not because i don’t want to write about her,
but because i know
i’ll just let myself write about her
and be sad
for p much
the rest of my life
(/or i’ll write for so long
that the first day i do end up writing
about not her
i’ll feel so guilt-ridden
it’ll eat me from
the inside-out)

but i suppose i should appreciate
and admit
that she still is on my mind
and will be
for a long, long time,
and grief will be there
for almost as long,
and the best thing to do
for her memory
and my own sanity
is not to force
any
thing
(the forced stopping
is probably as bad as
the forced continuation
of poems solely about
Louka the Good Dog)

so, please, forgive me
as i ride this roller coaster of emotions,
the highs of the silly memories
and the lows of the guilt
of needing to make the choice for her
and her failing body
to let her go
across the Rainbow Bridge/
up to Dog Heaven/
transition to the next life/
the next body/
whatever happens
next,

and Louka,
please know,
our love is with you
always.

~~~

there are certain things
we haven’t done yet
and continue to not be able to do:

long walks
around the neighborhood,
meandering around
these streets/
up to the college/
saying hi to everyone else
walking,
taking the side path
from the backyard/door
to the front
(our path with Louka
because stairs weren’t great
for her old arthritis legs),
having bagels for breakfast again…

but there are some things
we are starting to do,
tentatively,
still with the presence of
Louka
in mind:
yesterday i tried to nap,
and though the cat is not quite as great
of a nap buddy
as the dog was,
she still stayed with me
until i drifted off to sleep
at least once,
and today we are listening to music
in the morning
once more
(though apparently it’s easier
to have music we’ve never heard before),
but it’s all still very hard
but we’ll make it through
with those memories of Louka
with us.

April 8, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

autumn is a time for falling asleep
spring is the awakening

autumn is preparing for the months of winter depression
spring is shedding those sads

autumn is slowing, pondering, thinking, dying
spring is the adrenaline amping up again

so why do i feel so tired and sad and ponderous
while spring is all around me?

~~~

coffee
music
cat on lap
dog on couch
kip across the table
help me enter the day
my way

~~~

i know my headspace isn’t great
if i obsess over things
or
if i shoot from one subject matter
to the next
to the next
with no real resolution
and no thinking through to the end.

so why are my indications
entirely opposing?
is this my black and white thinking coming to some sort of fruition
or is this the source of my non-grey-mind?

March 29, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

yesterday was a
good(?!?)
day

chores accomplished
things done
(ahead of time even)
friends talked to
(friends!
what a concept!)

and i hope
that this energy
positivity
whatever-y
lasts
just a few days longer

because man, i have so many things on my to-do list
that are just waiting for a day
when i feel like i have the mental stamina
to do them.

~~~

toaster strudels
toasted
iced
eaten

bagels
ordered
made
still waiting
for delivery
(to house and to mouth)

do we need two different breakfasts this morning?
absolutely not.
but do we deserve them?
i’d say…
maybe?

~~~

being an actor is so weird
because not only are we
sharing intimate parts of
our selves/emotions/brains/pasts
and saying ‘hey, do you believe this
in a totally different context?’
we are also airing all our dirty laundry
out
for others’ entertainment
and hoping it’s cathartic
to both audience and us
(while still holding a piece
within our toolbox
just in case
we need it
again)

all the while,
those of us who have gone to school
for this
weirdness
have literally been graded
on things that
can be quite subjective
and we all just kind of had to
admit it
and accept it
and be graded
on our souls
(while being so young
we probably weren’t even connected
with the fullness
of those souls
quite yet)

(i know i, now, ten years later,
could still be more connected,
for my self and for my art.)

March 23, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

working from what is best
best for me
best for my brain…

there are dozens (hundreds?) of poems
that never got to see the page of day
the poetry blog where all these have run off to
and some of them, yes, they are simply me
trying to wake myself up
vibe myself into the rest of the day
figure out what in the heck
my brain
is even doing
at any given moment

but some are
objectively
*good*
they just didn’t fit with the other poems for that day
or they’re too personal
and i just
cannot
i can’t have that out in the world
at least not on the inter-webs.

it’s like
i’m still that open book
with pages ripped out
and stuffed in my back pockets
or otherwise eaten
digested
you’ll never see them

(and it still surprises
even me
what things i’m willing to be so open about
and what i’m not,
and i think it has a little bit to do with what’s still affecting me
hardcore
and what makes sense to affect me
this hard
this long;
and
yeah
that’s all

[i was going to give examples
but like i said
already digested])

~~~

the blank toe tag
waves in the
non-existent breeze
hanging off of our
plastic skeleton
(named Barnaby)
and i know that there probably is a breeze
it’s probably the hot air from the radiator
just beneath
but still
i like to imagine
ghosts
messing with our deathly decoration aesthetics
as if to say
‘it’s/we’re
closer than you think!’

~~~

i feel like i could turn that first poem
into something more,
something bigger,
literally
solely
from that last stanza
there is a pace and flow and rhyme and feel
that gives slam poetry
that gives life to the creative in me
that gives me reason to keep going
to keep flowing
to maybe not post that today
but to perfect it
and bring it back
(or
who says i need to refrain from posting
in order to play?)

(fuck it, let’s post all three)