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I am itching for a starting place,

but everything I am, or do, was begun

long before the first breath graced

my lungs and will remain unfinished

long after the last. This is the nature

of everything; everything is in progress,

impermanent, an eyelash caught

in a draft and floating, fleeting, away,

making a space for the next creation.

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Oooooh i love that image of an eyelash floating away! I’m going to just sit here, enjoying that metaphor.

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Beautiful, A. I love the idea of everything having begun long before your first breath, and everything remaining unfinished after. I find that supremely comforting.

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itching for a starting place is the way I feel about 99% of the time these days!

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This is beautiful, A I love “itching for a starting place” and the image of the eyelash floating away to make room. Right now I’m feeling the opposite, itching for an ending (to this interminable chore, to that string of annoying work deadlines) and your poem is also a balm for that sentiment. “Everything is in progress,” always, and there’s such release in accepting that.

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Like being on the sidelines, waiting for the coach call your number.

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"We are never separate, least of all in our pain." AMEN. This was beautiful, Lisa - I love your metaphorical topography imagery. So vivid. Here's some of my voice, echoing back:

*

Queer. Queer, queer, queer

as a $2 bill, queer as a coot,

queer as a Brighton Pier.

Queer as a football bat, I am

queer as they come, queer as

I want to be, queer as

I’m meant to be. Queer at last,

queer at last, thank God almighty

I’m free at last.

The truth is, I was always queer,

Even before I got here.

I came in this way and so I shall go out

when finally, I disappear.

I have no memory, not even a fragment,

of ever thinking myself a girl, but

I have plenty of them - me and my cells -

of bristling and twisting

at being told that I was.

And more still of wondering:

was it me or them getting things wrong?

As I wondered, sometimes I hummed

that classic Sesame Street song,

the one that told me one of these things

is not like the others, one of these things

just doesn’t belong. But the wondering

got to be too much, and I grew to hate

that song, so I decided maybe,

if I just closed my eyes to myself,

maybe, if I just didn’t see

my not belonging, it might go away.

Like the scary scenes on the big screens.

It didn’t, but I nearly did, again and again,

until one day, Grace

darted out in front of me and

shame slammed on the brakes.

What a glorious mess that collision made -

everything shattered from the impact

except the most brilliantly

colored essential bits. They scattered,

unrecognizable for what seemed like forever

until time bound them together,

enlivened them into a rainbow with

a strong and cohesive voice.

Today their message is as proud as it is clear.

We’re here,

we’re queer,

get used to it.

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I love every word of this (and every part of you) so much!

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Thanks so much, friend. Right back at you! 💞

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I love this! I'm with Karri, "Grace darted out in front of me and shame slammed on the brakes" really got to me. I had to pause for a while and think about that and the "glorious mess" that followed. I'm so glad that happened and your brilliantly colored essential bits coalesced into who you are today, Keith.

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Thanks, Rebekah...I appreciate the feedback, appreciate you. <3

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Gosh, I just love how you play with words. So fun, so beautiful, so glad you’re here!

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Thanks so much, Lindsey - appreciate this! Glad you are here, too...and so glad to know my wordplay landed :))

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"Grace darted out in front of me and shame slammed on the brakes." Here, here! Thankful for your words, your presence, and your authentic self Keith!

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Thanks so much, Karri <3

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I'm so desperately glad you're here just as you are, Keith.

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Thanks so much, A. I feel this...I believe you, and I appreciate you <3

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.

don't fret over it.

but

that's about most of my time spent.

to vomit up words and then start erasing,

until it is a size my brain can wrap around.

So, yeah,

while others paint with such broad colorful dramatic strokes,

don't worry about it, she says, thats your freakin' ego spinning, and it is something you really need to shove over to the side, to set down over there & for a moment walk away.

because it is really not them that keeps bringing you back, not the number of "likes" that u check on all day long.

That's not your grade,

some dang approval,

seems like you are always looking for acknowledgement.

It gets that clutter out of your head.

That's the goal.

Move stuff around ,

squeeze the tube a little

So I can get in there more better

and take up more space

and get you

to know me a little better,

and let me drive a little more

you are pretty stingy with that steering wheel.

So don't fret over it.

.

(post quick as I wrassle the eraser from my hand)

..

.

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I agree with A! So glad you wrassled that alligator and shared with us!

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I love this Chuck! You always bring a smile to my face. Ok, there has been the occasional tear too, but that's ok!

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Yass to the wrassling! Your "clutter" never fails to surprise and delight this reader. Rock on with your creations, Chuck.

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I love this, Chuck. Good job wrassling.

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Ok, I don't know what the hell this is but it's what came out of 10 minutes of free writing. I grabbed on a few words and phrases and the capitalizations are intentional.

The hum of the air conditioner and the sound of the lawnmower

The soundtrack to this Saturday night

Making lists, making plans, marking time until

The Next Thing.

Bubby stares at me and seems out of sorts

The sound of the mower makes him nervous

His searching brown eyes assume I have the answers

When I don’t even know the questions.

Change is coming, it’s just around the corner

And it’s not like I want to stay here

In this space of in between

Waiting for for What’s Next.

But a season full of stressors stretches

Between what is and what will be.

I will tackle the hurdles as they come

I always do, don’t I?

But For Now, I try not to borrow trouble

Although I know exactly where to find it

Stuffed in a too small box in the corner of my mind

Ready to break open at a moment’s notice.

The sun is setting, the mower stops

And Bubby asks to go outside

I open the door and go back to finish that list

For Tomorrow. That will do For Today.

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“Try not to borrow trouble” - I love this phrasing, Karri, and I can certainly relate to the challenge to stay present between hard moments. 💜

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The same lines really grabbed me (as they did Lisa): "But for now, I try not to borrow trouble/although I know exactly where to find it." I have a similar "too-small box in the corner of my mind." I loved this poem, Karri.

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.....waiting for what's next ......

🙂🙂🙂

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I think this really speaks beautifully to what you've been sharing with us recently about everything you've been going through and struggling with. I'm sorry you're still feeling so caught in the in-between.

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Like Lisa and Keith, I loved "borrow trouble" and the lines that followed. I also love the letting go at the end, allowing your list for tomorrow to do for today. Also, Bubby sounds like such a sweetie. :)

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I'm calling this "No Small Talk."

.

Today’s sun is an egg

cracked in a bowl of milk,

skimmed over and

dimmed.

Flat light, windless,

a still frame

but for the birds

who remain busy.

.

It was forecasted;

I call it a gloomy Monday.

.

My neighbor calls it a plot

sown by planes

flown by liberals

who are riding our

God-given thermal cycles

to the helm of the planet,

where they will

jab, chip, and

disarm the masses

before turning us all

gay.

.

There is no safe topic,

no small talk.

I am glad for the

acres of trees

that separate his world

from mine,

glad to perceive the

late-burning light

of a man who never stops

doing his own research

.

as just a twinkle

beyond the forest

of our shared humanity.

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Love this! “There is no safe topic, no small talk” really grabbed me, as well as the beautiful ending - “the forest / of our shared humanity.”

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I really felt this poem, it hits close to home. My siblings and I couldn't be more polarized in terms of our values and worldview. So good to be reminded, especially as the prez election looms, of the existence of a "forest of our shared humanity." Also so good to be reminded of the relief that comes from panning out from the claustrophobia of polarization.

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I love this so much. The imagery is so clear (and the content so cloudy - a great juxtaposition). And I agree with Lisa, the ending is so beautiful.

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"--Someone always needs it

more than me—"

Good words.

Sometimes i too felt that.

(mostly in church)

I am a big big fan of the shorter is better bias (ya think?) but

I do like the ten minute free write idea-thingy

(kinda reminds me of that "artist's way" thing i started but never finished)

so look out,

gonna go get some paper.

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Yes! But thankfully I’m just suggesting that you do it once, not every day for the rest of your life - whew! 😂

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Amen to that.

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Omg, this is beautiful. I felt my lungs struggling to breathe, in the straw/hospital section. Wow.

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Thank you, Jacy! I hope your lungs relaxed as the poem went on. 🧡

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Beautiful. I love the topography metaphor - mountains and cracks and fault lines as connection. ❤️‍🩹

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Thank you so much, Lindsey! And I’m happy to see you here!!

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I have been experiencing some Substack overwhelm, but when I do login I am never disappointed when I check in here - your poems are always lovely and your commenters are always kind & encouraging 💗

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Thank you, Lindsey! I appreciate that and can also really relate to the Substack overwhelm - there’s so much more that I want to read than I actually have time/spoons for, and so a lot of the time, I just hide away and read nothing!

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This is just stunning, Lisa. It's such a rich poem, so multilayered. I could read it again and again and come up with something new each time.

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What a lovely thing to say, LeeAnn! Thank you so much!

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Amazing. Just incredible words and imagery! Beautiful Lisa.

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Stunning... 💥

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Thank you, Rick! This one felt really close to my heart.

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I love this, Lisa! The little insertions here and there that the long form has room for—little interjections that surprise, and then the main flow continues on.

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That’s such a lovely way of describing what a long poem can do! In the course with Maya, she said that long poems tend to have more of a voice, and that feels like it fits with what you’re saying - the poet can be in the room with you in a conversational way.

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This is stunning, Lisa. I don't even know what else to say. It's just so evocative and beautiful.

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Thank you so much, A! 💜

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