three poem day

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)

March 6, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

the last
few weeks
we’ve gotten so little sleep
at night,

what with parties happening
two doors down,
or our dog
trying to lick away her own skin,
or the cat
being…a cat;

sleep has been
interrupted
at best
and non-existent
at worst

but last night
we may have slept through the night?
(or at least, had 3 or less wake-ups,
instead of our usual
10+)
and i feel
p rested
and my body
(and brain)
have no idea
how
to feel
[emotionally]
about that.

~~~

i wonder if i’ll ever feel
like
my poetry has a direction
a perspective
a purpose
a reason to keep writing and writing
other than my own
obsession
with
what the hell this life/world/brain is

but for now
i’ll just keep
writing
and writing
and writing and writing and writing
my damn-near gibberish-ness
and hope it sparks
*something*
in someone
in time.

~~

question
everything
answer
nothing
preserve
some things
and continue
on

February 6, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

three hundred days
not quite one year
three hundred days
far more than three hundred poems
three hundred days
a promise to myself and none other
three hundred days
a streak honestly acquired
(though sometimes through catching up)
three hundred days
i won’t get the alert until after i post this exact poem
but today
i know
i know
because yesterday was 299
i’ve been doing this whole
poem-a-day thing
for three hundred days
and i guess i can be proud of myself for that.

~~~

green around the house
green on the roof
rainbows shifting dancing swirling cranking
throughout the room
echos of classical
(some call ‘evil’)
and the cat scratching
and the fake fireplace flickering
and the humidifier humidifying
and my spouse done cleaning
so our giant table is a table once again
(and no longer just a clutter-catcher)
and though there’s still some more cleaning to do
this house really is starting to feel more like
our
home

~~~

i need a third
here
(what would a three-hundredth day be
without turning into a three-poem-day?)
but my brain isn’t in a hugely poem-izing mood
anymore
and any old poems i might insert
were either re-written there
or up here

so what else to do but
write a poem
about
writing a poem
like all my little meta-hipster-cells
want me to do

[how long is too long
to stare into space
and come back with
nothing]

February 3, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

still don’t know what the groundhog said
guess i could look it up
(even tho it has very little to do with anything real,
but we all need a distraction these days, right?)

six more weeks of winter
(as opposed to ‘early spring’)
but six more weeks isn’t terrible;
the full month of February
(which is annoying, but expected)
and then half of March
(March, which lost its status as
‘normal month’ way back in 2020;
i don’t think i’ll ever look at another
March
the same way again)

but i think,
i *think*
i can do it.

~~~

most mornings
the sunlight blazes through
our east-facing windows,
catching in our eyes
as we sit to write
morning pages and morning poems
and things of that nature
and the shine is so great
that half my computer screen
fades to white
and generally
we put up with it
for the warmth
(and for the plants)

but this morning
the sun is barely making itself known
through these dense clouds
bringing with them rain
and drear
and we miss that sun
not just the warmth
but also the light
the indication of daytime
the blasting through our senses
waking us up
in a way
that only coffee comes close
to imitating

~~~

i keep wanting/desiring/being drawn to the
writing
of tough stuff
in the evening
but in the morning
when i have more wherewithal
to contemplate
the complicated
my aversion to tackling
the ‘tough stuff’
grows
exponentially

(but maybe one of these mornings)

(or maybe one of these days i’ll just have to
write
in the eveningtime)

January 22, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

see
me
doing the work
writing the things
pushing
daily

meet
me
in between
the day and the night
the push and the pull
the enjoying the work
and the pushing through for completionist’s sake

and do it all
in a mf-ing
pandemic

~~~

don’t know where that came from
except my brain
so i guess it’s not all sunflowers and random peaks of
existential dread
up in here…

~~~

the thing is, i’m not pushing
that hard,
like,
i do like
writing
i enjoy it
and [especially] when i get into flow
it’s the most fulfilled and productive i feel
but the last few days/weeks have felt
‘off’
and i can’t quite figure out why,
but i just keep going
and if i don’t write anything that i deem
‘good enough’ for posting
i simply go back to other days
where writing felt smoother
and more ‘of me’
(or something)
and i post that
(which i’ve done before
but maybe not so many days in a row?)
(and even the written — posted days
feel
not great)

did the second poetry-writing challenge break me?
or is this simply the effects of wintertime
(and every year i’m surprised)

January 19, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

hold the cat
in your lap
quell her desire
to eat the dog’s food
replace it with a mad want
to get away
from love and cuddles
(even tho her purring
says at least some part of her loves this)
and quick,
before her leaping feet hit the ground
put the bowl of canine sustenance
somewhere even this hassle cat can’t reach
(and repeat)

~~~

this outfit
was
very cute
before i held the cat hostage
now it’s
really cute
with
tons of cat fur

~~~

write
and read
and read and write
and maybe
someday
it’ll end up feeling
[all]right

(as opposed to fake insight)

January 6, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

feet:
hurt.
big poem:
unfinished.
nap time?
nap time.

~~~

i hope that’s
[a cheeky]
enough poem
for today.

~~~

but
just in
case
here’s a
trio
to hold
any
expectations
aloft

[or
something
like that]

December 30, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

the balance
of yin and yang
(Kip and Kip)
is to have the one
be
stressed out of their mind
working all day
(during vacation)
snappy,
trappy,
not happy,

and the other
enjoying
Repair Shop
and
audiobooks
and leisurely cross-stitching
all damn day…

~~~

went to bed
with an ache
that could have been the universe
reaching into me
to warn me
of something devastating approaching
or
it could have been
empathic absorption
of my spouse’s stress.

(when will i find out which?)

~~~

no,
please don’t eat the chocolate,
or the dog’s food,
or sleep on needles,
or rub yourself all around in cedar spray
or-
-what did i just say about the chocolate?!

[this cat]

December 28, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

it’s getting close
to the end of the year
and i’m overwhelmed
by how much
and how little
happened this
twenty twenty-one.

~~~

wordplay
play with the
prefixes
suffixes
rhymes
(internal
and
external)
believe
in
beliefs
and skew slant down
to the ground
just to raise it up
let it rise
bake the pies
see with eyes
how silly words
can play just as well
and a scheme isn’t needed
as necessary as you well
know it
blow it
up
up
up
and let it fly
away.

~~~

let
Imperfection
sit.