offstage: poems?

autofiction? a collection? an experiment.

Feb ‘24

i’m sitting south of the bulls balls. again. thinking about being blood bound to the financial district.

talking to a guy on hinge i gave an off chance to. i realized he’s a scientist and that that isn’t a lie. i half jokingly asked him what he does and he’s literally genetically modifying white blood cells to cure cancer.

i just had my first table read for a movie. on the same block as adler. i’m a cancer moon. and an aires rising.

i skipped my one class today because i puked a little this morning.

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March ‘24

I’m feasting on an assortment of expired gummy tacos and realizing I hated how when we’d take our long walks around the same perimeter you’d talk to me like you knew more about music than me just because you played the bass. And so what if you did? Why did you stop me from bopping my head side to side listening to wouldn’t it be nice just to say that’s not the point, that it’s intentionally got a sad message but upbeat vibe. I haven’t written about you so long my hindsight bias has graduated to something more sinister.

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June ‘24

The sun came out between

Carroll Street and Smith-9 Street

and so did I.

Out of playing solitaire.

Out of my slouch.

My trip-turned-south

defrosting into what it could be instead of what it had been. It’s crazy

to caffeinate yourself out of a panic attack but it’s all I have.

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Nov ‘24

it was the kind of downpour you’d expect

to seek shelter and bide time

to let subside

but!

too close for comfort

to stay too far

too much to pay and pay and pay again

guilt circles down the soul-drain

absolution gets flushed out

digested.

there are no trains between rehearsal and home.

I’m known to lose or break

Umbrellas since eighth grade.

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April ‘25

the sun is out in greenpoint. Lucy Dacus has returned from the trenches to break me again.

I am learning to feel happy in new ways. Everyone is still around.

The sun is out in Greenpoint and I may cry in my Uber. My Lyft.

I am grateful every day.

The sun is out in Greenpoint and opportunities bloom. I’m trying to not question who the Gardener is. I’m trying to press send on emails that could’ve and should’ve been written weeks ago. They might as well have been.

The Sun is out in Greenpoint and I can’t wait to walk to rehearsal with my coffee