December 20, 2025

sometimes
subjects will mull around in my brain
for days
weeks
maybe months
[sometimes years]
before i write them down
in poem form

it’s like steeping a tea full of thoughts
so that, when i go to write it, it’s actually flavorful enough to taste

and perhaps taste is the way words come to me
[i do care about mouth-feel]
and expression is as much about
the emotion
as it is
the explanation

so the next time i’m pondering a subject matter
and think to myself “why haven’t i written it out yet?”
i can just answer
“it’s still stewing
still steeping
still brewing
give it time
give it time
it’ll taste better
with a little more time

[have you ever
not
written it out?]”

December 12, 2025

i wonder
if i whiled away my morning hours
finding the rhymes
and alliterations with time,
if i’d feel more
connected/
more a part of/
more in line
with my silly morning poems —

if i seriously sat still
thinking of the perfect line
the perfect rhyme
the perfect kind of poem to
express
and impress
and decompress
and perhaps then
i’d force my poems on others

[but, as it stands now, i can only make that happen
for like half to two thirds of a full poem,
and then i let go the pretense, and get back to the words
that just make sense
with my morning brain]

December 2, 2025

sometimes
when i don’t know what to write
i’ll just lightly tap my fingertips
against the keyboard

i don’t press any of the buttons down

it’s not to make any sort of mark
on the electronic page
rather
i’m trying to shake creativity loose
from my fingers, hands, arms,
body —
i’m trying to rain down onto the keyboard
and maybe one of these puddles
will create words
that i can splash into
and from which
i can start
a poem

November 8, 2025

writing while
breakfast is on its way
writing while
thinking about the coffee i’m unable to drink
writing while
my phone is struggling to charge
writing while
picking dog fur off of my clothes
writing while
haunted by all the laundry i need to do
today
writing while
only able to picture
the fantasy of potential nap(s) i could have later on
writing while
so many other things are
swiftly swerving in and out of my brain
and i can’t seem to concentrate
on the writing part of
writing
while

October 1, 2025

turn off the brain
turn on the writing
turn on the morning
the focus and the words
that mean nothing
that mean everything
if i don’t think too hard
if i don’t think hard enough
if i simply stop thinking
maybe these poems
may make sense
eventually]

September 24, 2025

the poetry isn’t flowing this morning —
it’s dripping
coagulating and spurting and leaking
that is to say
it’s still coming
just in fits and starts
and stops and lags and
drags my whole sense of self
along with it, whether it’s
coming or not
and all i can do
is try
to stay on for the whole
ride