January 31, 2026

two panic attacks
[or something like them]
in one month
after years of fair avoidance

i cannot tell if something is
going on
inside me

or if it simply the strain
of the external forces
of the world i cannot control
[but still affects us all]

or maybe
maybe
it’s the strain of january
of winter
when i can never see the light of spring
at the end of the proverbial
tunnel

just give me one crocus blossom
one sprig of green
not these mountains of slush-snow
and lows below zero overnight
i need something
something
something to keep me going

this has been the longest january i’ve seen
since wisconsin

January 30, 2026

what a crazy day
was today
was this morning;
waking up at 4
to get out the door before 5
to arrive deep into new jersey just after 6
so kip could be in delaware for a meeting by 8-ish
and i could get home
and get a nap
and be mildly ready for a day
at some point
just to have kip leave delaware at noon
be in a car then on a train around 2
and get back to me just before 3
to get home
take the dog out
and crash and burn
because
even with naps
and exercise
and relatively chill commutes,
the change in sleep schedule really really really
took it out of us
and we were dead to the world
by 6:30pm
[but didn’t want to go to bed
for fear of freaking out our bodies’ rhythms
a second evening in a row
so
just go to bed around 9
and be asleep by 10
and maybe the 6:00 alarm
will come in handy
on tomorrow’s saturday
morning

January 29, 2026

concept
for including more art in our rooms
and hiding the amount of
stuff
that just sits
on shelves
that we may or may not use
[but we definitely may have
some use for
at any given point]

hinged
framed
images

[paintings/printings/photos/mixed media/
anything we already have our hands on
sitting in storage
waiting for wall space we do not have —
it could all go up on our
bazillions of bookshelves
as long as the width is wide enough]

[and then we’ll have little doors
to the secret world of
craft supplies,
made of
art

how lovely!]

January 28, 2026

give me
a day
a semester
a scuba suit
a deep dive
an encounter with those aliens we call
octopus
[octopuses/octopi/octopodes
all are correct pluralisations
of this creature i’m mildly
absolutely
obsessed with]

i just want to see them
meet them
study them
understand them
observe them
have them
know
me

it’s a draw far stronger than anything in my life
has ever been
outside of an artistic endeavor

[but, hey, take a look at these magnificent beings
and tell me they aren’t, themselves,
art]

January 27, 2026

when lying on your deathbed
with your last breath
you can’t take it with you —
power accrued
wealth amassed
bodies stylized
any of that

what stays with you is
love
and
your acceptance of self

i’ve seen the love in a room
carry a soul
to whatever comes next

and i know when i die
i may have some small regrets
but you’ll never find me regretting
the person i’ve become

so what
is the point
of what so much of humanity
has

done?

January 26, 2026

trying to write poetry
as our guest cat rubs his face
all over my hands
and arms
and laptop
and screams for attention
and pines for the outside
i know he does not miss

he is clearly far more at home
in a lap
than in the snow

we named him Tab
because he seems intrigued by Computer
and we can always pretend
it’s because he’s a tabby cat

and i love him so much
but i’ll be happy
to have my own cat love me again
when we no longer have a guest feline
interrupting our day to day

but i could not could not could not leave him
outside in the negative lows
and two feet of forecasted snow
so
i let him walk into our house
and our lives
and he is so sweet
and so loving
and so nice

[and even kip is smitten]

but, like any good cat, he also hassles a fair bit,
and though i’ll miss his antics
and jumps
and hundred different meows
all made using his
whole entire face,
he’s gotta get fixed
and maybe find a home
somewhere far away from
the outside that he knows —
thank goodness for friends
with shelters
they help run

January 25, 2026

if you follow the dancing sheet of snow
as it leaps up from its tree branch
and swirls down below
each individual snowflake
becomes part of something
larger
and more whole

and as it settles on the ground
it joins a community there as well
some staying
some picking up and dancing more
elsewhere
and on and on and on it goes
one flake
one wind
many options
infinite paths
but always
somehow
together
with others
when needed

the metaphor for community is there
it needs some refining
some shaping and sculpting
[like most communities do, i’d wager],
but it’s hard to see any independent entity
once you realize
what community truly means
to the survival
of anyone
or anything.

January 24, 2026

the swell of the smell of
baking bread
with the spices still entwined
in the ridges and lines
of my hands

[the morning between
an economic blackout day
and a snow day]
[we can be a cozy, homey couple
when we want to be]

January 23, 2026

total economic blackout
[though i forgot about ads
on language learning apps]
[hopefully that barely counts
in the grand scheme of
telling the leadership
the country
the world
that we disagree
wholeheartedly
with what is happening
to our democracy
specifically
in minneapolis, minnesota]

we support you from afar,
midwest warriors —

keep pouring that water
around the tires;
freeze them out
in order to make
ice
melt