hitting that point of the summer
where my goosebumps and shivers come out
indoors
for everyone in the united states insists on
blasting their air conditioners as high
and as cold
as machine-ly possible
and myself
[and the earth]
am[are] the one[s] who suffer for it
half-formed poems
catastrophizing stuck in my head
until i think i’ll burst if i don’t
say
something
and then it’s there stuck in my throat
when i remember
actual
catastrophes
all while i’m too tired to sleep
and too sad to cry
and everything feels like a clock ticking down
down
down
but to what
inevitable
terror?
[or is this simply life in late-stage capitalism/climate crisis disaster?]
we may have voted
on halloween
and experienced an unseasonably warm day
and while november 1st looks like
it’ll be just as warm
later,
the air is perfectly spooky this morning
complete with ominous winds
ever so slightly brightening
early early sky,
and crows calling
into the crisp fall air
and i’m almost happy
it’s this time of year
again
still
fall up
into
the sepia-toned sky
reverse the wind
and take me to the fires
let me watch the world actually burn
instead of seeing the apathetic response
of humanity smolder
almost
accidentally
wrote
the date as
june 6, 3023
and i have to ask:
will we still be
here?
we
as in the human species
as in any species
at all?
here
as in on this planet
in this universe
a part of existence
at all?
i gotta ask
because at this rate
it seems
high key
unlikely
unless some changes
happen
swiftly
it took until
the night before
the last day of February
for snow to fully blanket
New York City
and that last day,
did it glisten and glow?
did it soften the world?
were there snowmen and angels about?
no.
24 hours post-semi-blizzard,
the air around it
started to melt the white stuff,
and turn it into ice over that night,
and dripping, dropping slush the next day.
what a grey and gloomy,
cold and foreboding,
proof of climate change winter
we’ve had this year
kipventures 