Notes for myself on a poem I won’t post

What does it mean to have permission? (The question is, who do I allow to grant me permission?)
What is the difference between permission and consent? What is held in the worlds of these words? I see it as permission is dependent on a dependent relationship. If someone is granting me permission, they hold some kind [...]

Hesitation

construct doesn’t mean control, though sometimes I wish it did, that I could choose
what my projects project, make yr I eye my I the way I build her
in poems. You see her differently than I see her & who is the I who sees
my I oh there is only winning in crafty use of we–
I [...]

Questions, maybe the legible kind.

Can we say that tolerance isn’t love? Does “tolerance” imply a stopping, an endpoint to the striving to accept? In what ways to I accept tolerance?
In what ways am I complicit with homophobia? With racism? With sexism? With classicism, with status-based oppression? What inside of me has not be overturned yet?
How to I enact my [...]

Queer Warhorse

Dream last night: talking to an artist that I went to college with, who I seldom talked to because she seemed so fascinating & together & I didn’t have the confidence to present myself as a whole person with whom someone would want to be friends. ANYWAY– we were talking about interesting things (queerness?) & [...]

before the belly of the document

Today is designated as my sacred writing day cuz I meet with Marie tomorrow & I’m not sure how I feel about where my thesis is at. Okay, I guess. It is where it is, where it only can be right now.
A theme that keeps popping up lately has been the role of the subjectivity [...]

Sisotowbell

Today, I took care of myself by sleeping in, cleaning my space with lavender-infused vinegar, & drinking copious amount of tea. Reclaiming order.
Yesterday, I took care of myself by eating (mostly) healthfully for the first time in weeks, walking home from work, & asking for what I needed. I dealt with my fumbling. I proceeded [...]

I / :-) / Rhubarb Pie

I have ten minutes to dislodge whatever is lodged in my tired head that is preventing me from re-writing.
Dislike that my art hasn’t become a place to question subjectivity– in the meat of it– in fact, my speaker tends to be this fairly consistent construction of how I imagine I might want to be if [...]

“trouble” sounds funny. trubble.

Maybe its not in our words but in how our eyes meet. Not within whatever parameters we set but outside whether we set them or not. We is a dangerous word. Perhaps this is better suited to an email, a conversation. How verbal the conversation? How something else?
***
Ate an ab&j sandwich for breakfast today because [...]

something but nothing more than wonder

I feel like I’m in the midst of processing so much & enjoying so much & I’m not sure about making it as comprehensible as language. Parts of it.
***
That’s what the beauty poem is “about.” Fuck about. That exercise, my response to it, silly Poets’ Companion, fucked me up. In ways I needed. Of course [...]

reminder (remainder?)

…
You must stack stories from the foundation up.

From the sad heart and the feet tired of supporting it.
Language is architecture, after all, not an air capsule,

not a hang glide. This is real life.
So don’t invite anyone to a house that hasn’t been built.

Because no one unbuilds meticulously
and meticulosity is what allows hearing.

Three millions [...]