note to self
somewhere in my notes is a poem
I started to remind myself
when today came, a little jog
for the big memory but when I search
it’s all grocery lists, things to tell
other people, plans I am meaning
to make, and explanations for the K I
wrote on my arm yesterday when the note
didn’t work because I forgot to look at
(or maybe couldn’t find) it, like today,
and I wonder who, upon my demise,
will find this mess and wonder too
if they will be better at managing it
than I am and really how
could they be any worse
9 thoughts on "note to self"
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I know this feeling. You capture it well.
Ah yes, the uncollected poems always must be curated by somebody 😀 you captured it.
I suspect you’re more organized than you let on, Arwen 😏
You struck that universal note here–I feel this one.
I always love hearing from you! This is completely relatable.
Felt! But even here, I see you looking with the eyes of a poet!
This is why I try to teach: There is ALWAYS at least one poem in the course (and events) of a day. Even if it’s about the poem that refuses to come.
Love the mentioning the K on your arm.
This is deeply relatable. You captured the frantic energy of it so well.
You captured the poetic frustration quite well!
This is a wonderful meditation on the frustration of something beautiful being lost.