October 3, 2022

oh yeah!
i wrote
last night

creatively
script-ily
a whole scene

i can do it
i can write
(other than poetry)

but i sure can
still write
a whole bunch
of
poems

~~~

there are things
to do
today

and i’m actually
excited
to do them?

~~~

sad
puppy dog eyes
gazing up at me
as if i could protect her
from everything

i will try, Computer,
i will try

September 29, 2022

i
don’t
wanna
do it

i don’t
want
to morning pages

i don’t
want to write
this morning

i don’t
want to be forced
or force myself to be
creative
fake inspiring
inspired
by the cold outside
(or inside for that matter)
by my sleepy eyes
or exhausted brain
or heart that has yet to gain
any sort of strength
(they say the heart is a muscle
but how do you exercise it
to be more open
more loving
more child-like
more you?)

i
don’t
wanna do
anything

so instead
i’m writing
about the feeling
and hoping
you’ll understand
too

September 26, 2022

is that
actually
what i’m doing
when i write
and post
my poetry?

i’m fitting myself
into each word
and phrase
and whichever one
comes closest
to revealing the true
me
is the one that meets
The Void
of the interwebs?

could be,
could be…

September 22, 2022

i think it’s so funny
when people are funny
about their dog’s gender

the dog
doesn’t care
only you care
only you

~~~

but maybe that’s the source
right?
it doesn’t matter what the misgendered person’s gender is
it doesn’t matter how they feel at all
it’s all about the
person
in power—
the parent
or owner
or law maker

am i right?

~~~

experimentation
with imperfection
with writing
without rewriting
with whimsy
and morning brain
and coffee-less veins
and only a little bit
of contemplation
before composition
before posting
again

September 18, 2022

how am i
so good at hinting
in poetry–
‘whining the whole night’
an indication
of no rest/
stressful sleep/
loud noises/
what exhaustion comes
the morning after/
etc.

but i can’t just show
and not tell/
indicate
and not explain/
let the reader
figure it out
in fiction

why???

September 14, 2022

when i show friends
these words
there is an unspoken trust
and an irrational fear

the trust is to read
the fear is that they
have read

but the fear is also
of breaking of trust
that i am still somehow
too much
and not enough
too many poems
not enough time
in our society
that has no reason or rhyme
for when you’re allowed to just sit
and ponder poetry
and when you have to be hustling
because with self-care culture
relaxation has become another side hustle
and being in the moment
is simply a competition
to see who does it
‘right’

but i digress
and am getting ahead of myself
(or really, beside,
because i’m not sure where this poem
was trying to align itself
to begin with)

whenever i show
a friend
a loved one
this here poetry blog
i am both terrified
that they’ll read it
and terrified
that they won’t

maybe i should publish
the first year
just so new folks
have context
for the rest of this
craziness

August 24, 2022

sometimes
creativity
just needs a
change of scenery—
a trip to the coffee shop
or to a whole new continent
but sometimes, a simple switch
from table to couch
is all that was needed

~~~

interesting—

i pride myself on variety
on variating my verbs and adjectives
and nouns
too;
repeated words and phrases
(unless used in threes or themes)
cause me such duress
that half my writing time is spent
searching
for the
perfect
word
in thesauruses
and dictionaries
online—
trying to continue the thought
but include intentional alliteration
without the clumsiness of
a word
repeated—
to me that is the mark of a novice
or just a messy writer
(maybe not when others do it,
but definitely when it shows up in my work)

but
the last few days, i’ve had
repeated words
a couple of same-phrases
sitting in close proximity
in one poem
without the third to make it a theme
and i think my soul is experimenting with
imperfection
with finding a simple/correct phrase
and sticking to it—
embracing
the words my mind came up with in the moment
and going with it

and seeing what comes of it.

~~~

i’m writing
and writing
and writing down
the thoughts as they come
the words as they crown
(is that rhyme too obvious?
that metaphor too gross?
or perhaps just too femme-y
for male-bodied bros?)
but my intention
for this one poem
is simply to keep going
keep writing
keep growing
keep feeding the fire
and the belly of desire
to write words forever
(or at least until my word count
inspires
an ending)