writing about writing

March 12, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

a whole host of
feelings
dreary
hungry
tired
that seem to
disconnect
me from feeling
any other things
[inspired
full-spirited
interest]

~~~

this winter seems to go on forever
except
unlike the Wisconsin winters
i’d been used to,
this one has a very
Cleveland flare:
stopping for a day or two,
letting the flowers in the yard
start to peak from the ground,
green stems pointing towards the sky,
before dumping another
few inches
or damn near
a whole foot
of freezing rain/hail/sleet/
pure snow
on us once more
(only to have all that
melt
in a matter of days,
and have the buds
begin
to emulate
full flowers;
colors in the back
side
front yards
before it all turns to white again
just for the green to stick out
over top)

the fight
over what season
March
should be.

~~~

what to write about
in mornings when i feel
the least like myself;
not even more sad
than my usual rainbow demeanor,
just too tired
to be
me
?

March 11, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

today
is day
333
of my streak
and three is my favorite [base] number
of which i base all my other favorite numbers off
whether they include a three
[as in 13, my ‘official’ favorite number]
or are divisible by it
[as in 9 and 27, which i also especially love
because
their division includes other threes]
i adore any and all ‘threed’ numbers,
and 333 is three threes-
how energizing
how beautiful
how apt…

(…so why can’t i use that energy
to bolster my creativity
or make me feel
like i’m not
miserable
this morning?)

March 8, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

falling asleep just
thinking
about the words i’m about to write
and the things necessary to be done today
and the accomplishments i need to do before this week ends

there’s a van down the street
just a few doors down
rumbling
and popping
and waking itself up for the day

if this van with
[clearly]
many things in need of fine tuning inside it
can take its time
getting itself ready
for its tasks for the day
then i certainly can wake myself up
through poetry
[and coffee]

~~~

but
i’m not awake
yet

~~~

the fake fireplace glows
and blows
forced heated air
at us
while the tiny humidifier
blows vapored water
up
into the air
into the plant beside it
reflecting in the mirror behind it
and we drink our coffee
as the dog tries so hard to lick her legs
on the couch
(that has become 100% hers)
and the cat is…

…somewhere

(a standard morning at the kips’)

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

March 2, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

even the poem
i wrote
about having trouble
writing poems
this morning
feels so cheap
and distant
and alien
to what is actually happening in my brain
at the moment
so i guess
i’ll write
this tiny diatribe
about
‘blah’ness
and ‘meh’ness
and the ‘blargh’ that i’ve been
chanting in my head
all morning
and see
where this
all takes me…

February 28, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

drive is not enough,
desire is not enough,
ambition/hunger/passion-
-not enough,
when you have anxiety
breaking you down at every step,
when you have depression making sure
you know
that visualization
is just a foolish trick,
and that hunger is simply greed
in a different trench coat,
when you have your own brain
waging war
on every want you’ve ever wanted
it’s not enough
to want
to set the goals
to be proactive at all…

manifestation
only manifests
if your whole being is on the same wavelength

so how
do i
connect
my
divisions of self?

February 24, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i wish i could have the discipline
of folks who literally write every day,
who get up at the exact same time
and write for the exact same amount of hours
and never miss a day
in their 30, 40, 60, 90-year career

i wish i could write/live like i’m running out of time

i think the problem is i do.

but i feel it in the depths of my skin/soul/teeth
where the reminder just brings me to my knees
i see the futility
of years
of words
of works
and it petrifies
and paralyzes
every piece of my creativity

so where’s my legacy?

February 22, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

continuing
on
a trajectory;
a reconstruction?
a fun date deduction:
[2/22/22]?
a pondering of poetry and pain?

the contemplations i create
co-habitate in my brain
until the day
they’re ready
to be
set free…

…and even then, they never truly leave home;
they come back and visit
for dinners,
for vacations,
for mid-week excursions,
for time away from their new habitudes
and i conclude
that i’m never truly concluded
with any sort of
meditation
which is good?
i guess?

February 18, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

my brain is not awake yet,
nor is my body, really,
and the first sip of coffee is cheap
when
you know you could sleep for hours
even with the whole mug in your bloodstream,
and i keep getting distracted by tiny chores
which probably could/should be done,
but will it take away from these
morning page poetry streams of [semi-un]consciousness(?)
and
why can’t i think of myself like i did
at fifteen
seventeen
nineteen
when i fancied myself a mini-ee cummings
well on my way to
making language my b*tch(?)
even though now it’s probably more reality-based
to think that someone else has thought of
‘streams of [semi-un]consciousness’
before,
but boy,
did it give my ego a boost
to think i was thinking
entirely new thoughts
new concepts
new words
new communications
with new people
instead of how my brain is now
knowing that there are no new ideas
and instead of that spurring me on
to create without worry of plagiarism,
it instead spurns every concept i have
with the barrage of
‘you will never be creative enough
to think of anything
fully
new’
[
you
].