Kitbag of Words

7d

Nat Lipstadt

every time a poem completed,
its state of affairs, certified & feted,
the boys gather 'round, for serious
series of slaps on the back, and
drunken wisdom words,
"you'll never do another one, better, boyo!"
and the dread of correct
feels me up,
filling me up
with cream filling
whipped up
anxiety
of the now seizured defeated

as I grab a clean sheet from top of the stack,
and the retired muses overhear,
delightedly, whispering to each other
just loud enough to hear
me shaking tremble,
"and right they are,
and write they are!*"

and yet, ex-poet, still a fool…
9:42pm
Wed Aug 6
2025

this pithy,
expelled just before a good night's sleep,
perhaps I'm better off
not listening to the dog whistles
mid of night,
that demand and whisper;
"epistle, epistle, my goofy good fellow?"

#pithy #10 #each #time #next #nat #lipstadt

Jul 31

Nat Lipstadt

Pithy #8: Appoint~moment

~ for Paula Poundstone~

brain has its own calendar,
alarms, forget~me~nots, nat-ur-ally,
seeds and scraps of half-breed poems,
even its own junk drawer, with extra
keys, pocket tissues, swiss army knives

call 'em appoint-moments,
random and scheduled,
though not always attentive paid

no longer needy for post-it notes,
reasons why I may I have come to a
particular room in search of a) b) or see

now, I just need to remember to take
my brain with me,
which is much harder than you
'think'…

#lipstadt #pithy #8 #poundstone

Jul 28

onlylovepoetry

cross pollination and enervation (yup, a love poem)

this combo presents itself
inexplicably demanding a
poem~all~its~own by gum, (1)
though the brain refrains from
providing any clues where/what
might be inside the intersection of
the Ven diagrams of cross pollination and enervation

but as an only love poet,
he thinks he is brilliant,
and visualizes the intersexual
excitement of two insects (bees)
recombinant/\recumbent after the stimulation
of cross pollination as most
enervating
<>
said the Queen bee to a worker bee:

"Honey, be a dear and pass me a cigarette,
all that pollinating and wing flapping is
just so enervating, I think I'll just die"(2)

(1) used to express surprise
(2) A queen bee can die in several ways: supersedure (replacement by the colony), death during mating flights, accidental death by the beekeeper, or being killed by rivals, like other queens or potential queens. Worker bees may also **** the queen through a process
called "balling" when she is deemed ineffective

who knew??????

(3) yup, def an only love poem

#olp

Kitbag of Words Jul 28

How to Cook a Poem!

simmer or roast,
your only two choices,
you can’t order in,
it’s a sin,
don’t give me that ai, ai, yai sh^t,
why not, you say, winking like
it’s totally cool,

what it is
worse than plagiarism,
you might as well
get cooked in hell🔥

#kitbag #cook #poem

Jul 22

Nat Lipstadt

At the end of the day,

Somehow, unbefuddled, it all ties together,
The happy endings get tied, knots well made,
Sleep comes easy, the light dims slowly, finely,
Clarity, everywhere, not for taking, just for asking,
Wanting is off limits, even inconceivable, and the poem.
Why, even the poem finishes itself, and to all a very, Good Night

a grownup lullaby

#lipstadt #natend #of #day

Jul 22

Nat Lipstadt

Oh Please! Tell me where you are from?

You intrigue,
With your unsubtle unsettled intent to decieve,
Breadcrumb clues
Your gender;
(don't care)
Your age
(don't care, but oft
Insightful)
<>
Only two things do I require;
Any name you wish to provide,
(So intriguing, always a poem in & of itself),
And from where you hale/hail,
So my imaginings can fly to you
With full embrace
<>

Sunday
July 20th
2025
Still & Quiet
in the sunroom
S.I.

nat lipstadt
new york city/ shelter island

Jul 17

Kiana Marie

((in case you ever wanted to learn a bit more about the poet))

If I were a month, I’d be September.
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Thursday.
If I were a planet, I’d be Saturn.
If I were a sea animal, I’d be coral.
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a bookshelf.
If I were a gemstone, I’d be a sapphire.
If I were a flower, I’d be bougainvillea.
If I were a kind of weather, I’d be a crisp autumn wind.
If I were a color, I’d be auburn. (much like my hair)
If I were an emotion, I’d be wonderstruck.
If I were a fruit, I’d be a pomegranate.
If I were an element, I’d be air.
If I were a place, I’d be a field of wildflowers in Scandinavia or a bookshop in Northern Italy.
If I were a taste, I’d taste like sweet and bitter black tea.
If I were a scent, I’d be the smell of freshly baked goods.
If I were an object, I’d be a pencil sharpener.
If I were a body part, I’d be freckles.
If I were a song, I’d be Thoughts of Flight by Edmund.
If I were a pair of shoes, I’d be **bright purple converse.

me