I’ve heard people say
writing about coffee
and cigarettes is not
romantic
definitely not
meaningful
.
still
.
all I can think about
is the cup right there
on the windowsill
with way too much milk
(I bought at Costco)
.
still
.
it makes me feel
better
knowing the Costco-milk-
coffee-tired-mug exists
so meaningless
that it gives me hope
inspired by the squirrels living in our ceiling
I have dreams about large animals
lounging in the rafters
smiling down at me with their kind eyes
lifting feathers with their sighs
the footsteps in my ceiling
they keep me up at night
I imagine they belong to gentle bears
or doves in quiet pairs
this house is home to more than us
but we’ll never see their glorious
asleep behind the table there
aglow with dreams of steadfast care
this house is home to more than us
I wake up to the dinosaurs
trudging through the yard
crying tears and tears and tears and tears and tears
surprised to end up here
polar bears and elephants
otters kissing lambs
I can hear their heartbeats pressed against the walls
I listen for their calls
this house is home to more than us
but we’ll never see their glorious
asleep behind the table there
aglow with dreams of steadfast care
this house is home to more than us
frying eggs
is sometimes the only thing that makes sense
just a simple task,
maybe the first food you learned to cook
young and hungry in the kitchen-
rem-
ember when
young and hungry
was
all you needed to be?
second day of February
and she’d already dreamt of her
twice
there, by the river,
draped in her rubies and pearls
standing in socks with a cupful of tea,
i wonder if i’ll ever see her again
her sadness the hero i saw
when i drew her in tie dye, in crayon
such a human thing: making meaning
from every moment.
isn’t it enough
that we’re all here, eating our corn syrup
easing our shadows?
who are we to satisfy
some entropic god
some ancient mercy?
My body may not be mine
it may be a place I visit
for awhile.
Could I take off my shoes
and my jacket?
My skin?
let’s be trees
so we can kiss
warm & naked
with quiet sky surrounding
Let’s be real. A global pandemic is not the best for becoming a master of a skill. The underlying anxiety caused by tiny daily decisions like “should I go to the grocery store to buy milk and eggs and risk getting ill and dying” and “I won’t be able to wash my hands until I get home but I need to run multiple errands to save on gas” exhausts my brain and body. The constant transitioning online, offline, online, offline, to stay afloat as an entrepreneur feels like trying to catch a particularly quick chicken. Running, clucking, spreading your hands out in front of you and hoping for the best.
When I can’t make plans for the future, and I truly understand that I don’t have control of anything, it’s hard to aim to master a skill like I usually do. I practice piano, but what am I practicing for? I rehearse with my band, but what shows am I rehearsing for? What tour am I prepping for? I’m saving money to move to a new city, but when will I be able to safely visit the cities I might move to? “Promoting myself” begins to feel like pushing useless art on people. I can’t reach them by performing live, right in front of them, with the sound reverberating around the room, all breathing together and feeling together. So.
I’ve developed the following skills:
Knowing which size Tupperware will work best for leftover pasta, as opposed to leftover stir fry.
Cuddling with my kitten.
Telling friends that I love them, that they are beautiful.
Training morning glory vines to climb up my porch railings.
Clearing out clutter in my house (okay, maybe not every week, but DEFINITELY more than twice a year).
Giving small gifts to neighbors, friends, family.
Giving my partner long, bear hugs.
Noticing signs that the season is changing.
Staring out the screen door at the garden, green, alive with sun, feeling the flyaways around my face moving in the breeze.
Walking at night through the neighborhood, feeling like I’m back in middle school, telling each other all our secrets.
Concocting dank dinners that take me hours to plan, prepare, and execute.
Being me.
Unearthed haikus show
me the possibilities
they show me myself
coffee shop thoughts are
somehow more pointed and clear
than thoughts in kitchens
Siena Rose 