i spend so much of my time
and mental energy
avoiding doing anything expected
anything cliché
anything too human-made
which is so incredibly silly
because i, myself, am human-made
a year in poetry
August 9, 2026
biting my lip
the same spot
in the evening
in the nighttime
while i’m sleeping
during morning walks
all because i have
the anxiety that hits me
in my bones
in my core
in my head
in my heart
in my brain chemistry
in my fidgets
in my panics
in my subconscious
in my conscious state
in everything
even when i’m relatively
not worried
i’m still
so
worried
August 8, 2026
leave it to a thunderstorm
rumbling in my bones
as my eyes watch the trees
sway and toss and turn in the intense breeze
to actually get my brain and body and heart to acknowledge
a love for being alive
on this Earth
it feels too emotional
too sincere
to share in any way but poetry
but even the words of poetry feel too simple
for the intensity of the feeling
or too flowery to really embody
the groundedness of the feeling
[though flowers are grounded too, in their growing, are they not?]
how can i explain the feeling of ‘home’
that is this living within all Earth has to offer?
i love her i love her i love her
and maybe that’s the heightened emotions talking
and maybe that’s my experience with many personifications happening
and maybe there’s a distance and a pushing that comes from
writing this hours and hours and after the experience
but my heart feels to bursting with love of this planet
and yet, i know my heart will not explode,
for everything has worked itself out over billions of years
for hearts to not literally engorge with emotion,
but the feelings align with physical signs
my heart seems to fill, to push up at my throat
as that signals to my eyes to fill with tears
just as they did last night
during the thunder and lighting and rain and realization
that i actually
at that moment
and this
love being
alive
and i have the Earth to thank
August 7, 2026
connecting to ancestors
perhaps my own, if i know they were
whole
and not assholes
but ancestry is not just about dna
it is also about identity
non-blood relatives form found family
and found family becomes the ancestors
we wish we had when our own submit to
or uphold
white supremacy
being a good ancestor for future generations
is also about finding good ancestors
for yourself today
[note: it took me a while to come to this conclusion
and i’m still learning the nuances,
because it is not just about disavowing yourself away
from relations you don’t want — that is where
the ‘becoming a good ancestor’ comes in
choose your ancestors
choose your ancestry
and choose how you show up and speak out
for those your bloodline may have committed such atrocities against
they have little to no bloodline today; you don’t have to take responsibility
for everything done, but for goodness sake, don’t perpetuate a cycle
you don’t want out in
the world
or in your
legacy
your future
ancestry]
August 6, 2026
it’s still wild to me
that we have these tiny rectangles
where we can chat with anyone
anywhere
anytime
i hate to be that millennial
but back in my day
no one had a cell phone
few people had internet
and when you did log on
it screamed
[and took twelve minutes to do
anything]
we say this is the age of innovation
but, perhaps in that way, things were really better
back then…
August 5, 2026
i am such a big fan
of the irish goodbye
maybe because i was raised on the midwest goodbye
of saying you’re leaving
and three hours later still chatting in the kitchen
and i feel weird being the center of attention for a departure
knowing the party [or event] will go on without me
i’d rather leave with an air of mystery
have people continue to talk about me
i am more present in the room in an irish goodbye
than if i were to stay and stay and stay
[and, goodbyes are hard for me anyway — saving up all emotions
for one moment at the end of an event?
i’d rather just tell people how much i love them at any given time
randomly
throughout,
show my appreciation when appreciation appears/
never leave things unsaid until the end
because you never know when people just need to
disappear]
August 4, 2026
i already miss the retreat
the people
and filling my life with art
and theatre
in a way i haven’t since
performing arts camps in
days long gone by
there is a loss of worry about time
when one is out in the woods
with only other artists around
[i know this would likely change
if i were the one scheduling everything,
but as a participant and not an
organizer, it’s a gorgeous experience,
not checking my phone every two seconds,
not analyzing exactly how long i have before i need to
finish something
start something else
run to the train
run to the gym
run to everything else i have going on…
because we are all a short walk away from each other
it doesn’t feel nearly
as hectic
and high stakes]
the stakes are all
in the script
and the acting
[and we can forget for all of two seconds
the stakes in the rest of our
falling-apart world]
August 3, 2026
explore
and
expedite
every
human
experience
that’s the kips
that’s the kips
wanting to suck the marrow out of life
not miss out on one thing
but also
to achieve and advance in
the quickest amount of time
possible
like it’s a race
like it’s a contest
can the kips achieve
the
full human experience
by the time they hit
45?
[can the kips understand
that not every experience can be
caught, some are fleeting, and some
literally cannot happen until
old age is actually gotten]
[can the kips admit that
every human life is different
even
each other’s?]
August 2, 2026
storytelling
connection
theatre art community
these words hold purpose
and so much more meaning
than a mere poem can give them
[and perhaps a mere weekend]
but damn…
damn.
August 1, 2026
the coyotes howl
and yip
and screech a bit
and there’s definitely more than three or four of them
and i’ve never experienced coyotes in a group, the
extent of my wild sighting(s) was
mangy
sick
solitary
scrounging around
barely alive
barely surviving
i thought the first one was a
sickly domesticated dog, until i described it to my dad
and he said
“coyote.
definitely.”
but these seemed wild and vital and collective
and though we howled back
[probably stupidly, as humans do]
we just wanted to hear them
again and again and again
for it was something few of us had ever experienced before
and might never again
and i hope nature is healing in ways
we might not be able to even see, because we are observing
[almost]
every
single
way
we’re fucking it up,
and having hope would be
fucking fantastic for my mental health
and for the physical health of
literally every living being on the planet
and the planet itself
so i hope for hope
which, definitionally is a hope itself
and in this moment it was sparked by the first wild howl
of a family of coyotes
i have ever
ever
ever heard
kipventures 