There is a gap in time,
What should I do?
I’m temporarily left-handed; looking at the notebook next to my bed.
Some magazine underneath it.
Another reading material underneath,
Three nos, four nos.
I don’t want to count my calorie intake;
I don’t want to learn how to sound like a bot,
read like a bot,
move like a bot,
on a stage;
I also don’t want to challenge what a drawing could be,
by transforming it into a sonic experience;
I don’t want to write how-tos;
I don’t want to listen to Cargo selected music;
I don’t want to anticipate my next IG post.
Of all the things I don’t want,
I mostly don’t want to exercise remembering the exactness,
of international facts,
titles of exhibitions,
writers I’ll never be.
+ Reading my bio already scares me.
OK OK, I guess I’ll just think of you.
Even though sometimes I wish to be Etta James,
I really don’t wanna cook your bread.
(Please don’t get Western blue)
On my small screen,
Not this one,
A suggestion for a strategy adjustment.
When we talk about strategies, can we make them sound cute?
When I put a strategy in my poem,
I start feeling like the oldest tab on my browser;
Though not let gone,
In constant need of reloading.
It’s true, users rarely have time for gaps in time.
It’s been a long time since I had a gap in time;
I almost don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what else is there to know.
Most of the time,
It feels like I’m cleaning. Itineraries.
Itineraries are all there is.
I’m decluttering my way through the hoarded subjects.
And that’s nice.
That too, is also, really really nice.
Being left-handed in real, for whatever reason, doesn’t mean that you’re digitally left-handed.
My leftover attention goes to the most laughed at word lately:
E X P E R I M E N T.
Because everybody wants something all the time,
And just like most people want from other people,
I want to teach my website how to be independent.