build a concept
from words and stanzas,
make it stand like the structure of a house
but the house still needs full walls and floors and a roof to keep it dry
so decide:
are the walls paragraphs of a story?
is the foundation actually one a play can stand upon?
or will the covering shelter end up being a whole novel?
or will it stay a poem forever?
only reviewing and editing can do that —
but only writing the first few words
will give you the skeleton
to build upon
i feel like i need to let myself write
Whatever
in the morning
i’m stuck in the process of
Morning Pages
to be about me
and Morning Poetry
to share with others,
but this habit is For Me By Me
so if i should, say, want to write a little script
or short story where
i have no idea where it’s going,
that’s for me to decide
[plus, i still have so many poems in the past
and i’m sure i’m going to keep writing
personal/postable poetry as i go,
i can take a day or so
to write weird maybe non-poetry type things]
[and perhaps
possibly
maybe one day
i may even
post one]
we are all just trying
to get along
get along
get along
with ourselves
with our neighbors
with our coworkers and family and friends
get along by getting along
isn’t that how it
always is
i think
my belated new year’s resolution
is to find the place/space/state of mind
that allows me to write
more this year
i keep feeling
almost
ready to write
like i
almost
have a concept i’m happy with
or i have
almost
found the optimal writing situation/
location/
time of day/
mood/
lighting/
sound/
something/
etc.
but
if imperfection is what i’m looking for
in the product
then perhaps
i should look for that, too
in the process
creeping through discord
just like i crept through
other social media empires
maybe i’m just a creep
and that’s all i’ll ever be
when related to media of the social variety
just write through
the pain and
the loss and
the lost feelings and
the sleepiness and
the exhaustion and
the boredom and
the mundanity and
the distractions and
the battles and
the fight and
when the fight leaves us
for an hour or a day or a year
or so
we can write ourselves
back into the fight
if it means enough to us
[and yes, it means enough
to me]
writing out what i need to work through,
but jumbles of feelings
and half-formed stanzas of
partially-formed thoughts
aren’t really something i’d want to share with
‘the public’
[or even, really, with myself]
so i guess i’ll write about writing
for the three-hundredth
three-thousandth
three-millionth time
and post that here
and hope
it at least makes some sense
and doesn’t feel too
deja vu-y
the problem with my desire to write
both poetry and prose is that
my poems feel more like journal entries
and my stories read more like poems
and when i try to make sure one feels like itself
[or even if i force into line the opposite kind
of writing that most folks find stable and ‘right’]
it all feels forced and off and awkward in the daylight
so, i suppose, i should just always write without expectation or label or genre
or even a plan for any words that come to mind?
i suppose, i should just
write?
the poetry is stilted
today
usually, if i get distracted
i catch myself staring off into space
for minutes
before i look back at my
half-finished poem
and then i take a moment to figure out
if i can reasonably get back into it
or not
but there is a moment
between realizing i’ve lost my concentration
and trying to get it back
that i know so well
and i keep having that moment
that feeling
without the minutes of staring off into nothingness
like my brain has decided it cannot concentrate
on even one poem this morning
and instead i must shatter my attention
into a million tiny bits
and hopefully i can repair them
into something resembling
a poem
kipventures 