my train of thought
left the station without me
and now i’m just sitting here
on the platform
wondering
where it went
and which train i could grab
last minute
to catch up
with it.
travel
September 4, 2021 (part 2)
so much
and
so little
happened
[is happening]
and it just goes to show
that life in the countryside
[or just north of Pittsburgh]
allows a slowness—
no,
lets me allow a slowness,
a meandering, relaxing, stillness,
that i usually don’t permit for myself
September 4, 2021
can i concentrate?
should i hang out in Cleveland today?
how long will travel take tomorrow?
can i make my class?
why is my main/sole deciding factor
in most/all things
how it will impact others
instead of knowing at all
what do i want?
(at least this bird clock
still amuses me so)
September 3 (part 2)
nature:
turkeys
sleeping bees
talk of ticks
pine cones
sandstone
and
sunlight
and shade
and everywhere in between
broken branches
stampeeded weeds
dewy wet grass
and the great expanse of sky and clouds
not nature:
massive amounts of coffee
protein bars
pink and purple hair dye
tiktoks and youtubes to pass the time
plastic bottle spray paint art projects
frozen twix bars
zoom workouts
and online ordered Indian food
mix the two
and you have a solid foundation
for a much-needed mini-vacation
[with the fam]
September 2, 2021 (part 2)
flowers in the garden
made of plastic bottles and spray paint
and a healthy dose of in-law bonding
September 1, 2021 (part 2)
i feel
as though
i am the observer
the storyteller
the tie-togetherer
when it comes to global climate change;
i travel
and watch
and observe
and i see the Bronx flooding
and Brooklyn flooding
and then i travel away
from the concrete and subway tunnels and solid architecture
to the malleable lands
hills and valleys and mountains
of Pennsylvania
and i see the flooding of that countryside
ditches
becoming creeks
becoming rivers
becoming flooding alerts all over the roads
every hour or two another alert in on my phone
knowing it’s the aftereffects of a hurricane
and seeing watch-warnings for tornados
seeing the sky go dusk-dark at 1pm
and open up, finally, to the brightness
of 6pm
as we drive out of the stormclouds
heading where we had been…
i am aware that nature is unpredictable
and that storms like these often happen in a lifetime
but i’ve now lived directly through at least three ‘one in a lifetime’ storms
(and watched probably 20 others from afar)
and i am
worried.
September 1, 2021
uncertainty
turned excitement
turned apprehension
turned…who knows
at least i’m still in
‘go with the flow’
mode.
~~~
the rain pouring
feels apocalyptic
though no such apocalypse has yet to take hold onto a whole nation
just whole communities,
whole cities,
whole states…
[or are we simply feeling immune
because our whole country
is so damn huge?]
~~~
quick and dirty
morning poems
so i have time
to get quick clean
before heading out
not away from the storm
but deeper into
(solely for the sake
of dogs
and nature
and family)
August 30, 2021
back in the habit
back on board
back inside this bandwagon
back to reality
back to
back to
back to
except
about to travel
about to explore
about to visit
about to have new experiences
about to
about to about to about to
about to
but for now
back to regularly scheduled/written/done/posted
morning page poems
[i hope we have some moments to ourselves
to morning page it up
there]
June 28, 2021
to rest
or to rest
or to rest
or to chore
or to work
(it wouldn’t be the question
had we rested yesterday
but the house
and the march
were well worth it.)
June 27, 2021
two weeks
in and out
a perpetual
Go
Go
Go
from New York
to Maryland
(to Adelphi, to Baltimore, to Ocean City, to Frederick, to DC)
to New York
to Upstate
(to Batavia, to Byron, to Elba, to Waterport)
to New York
and now
are we still
Go…Go…?
from Brooklyn
to the Bronx
to Manhattan
and back
and back
and back?
or is there a moment
of rest
to recover
(or is the rest
also going to be
from bedroom
to Zoom
to Zoom
to Zoom
continually
ad infinitum
and on and on and on?)
kipventures 