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
a grey morning
but warmer than it’s been
and still no snow
thank you(?) global warming
oh to be a puppy
happily chewing a faux bone
no cares in this world
but what to do if it gets lost
under a couch
oh to be a cat
content to sleep all day
and chase ghosts all night
and lay down all comfy
in whatever lap
she decides
wants her
oh to be a summer storm
rolling in to a parched land
thankful of the temperature-lowering powers
it brings with it
dropping rain
and giving an excellent light show
and changing the air pressure
for a time
oh to be anything but human
in late stage capitalism
here at this point in history–
the crossroads of
‘will we start caring
as a community
or will we let the world
burn?’
i’m all for a little arson
here and there
but the world?
the whole world???
[a message to billionaires and conservatives]
there was a moment,
a whole slew of moments,
a good month or so,
when everyone was staying indoors
trying desperately
to stop the spread,
and magic occurred:
the air cleared of smog
and wildlife returned to where it hadn’t been seen
for ages
and nature began reclaiming
her[/their] right to this earth…
and for a pessimist such as myself,
this brought a huge abundance of joy to my heart;
i’d like nothing more than to save this planet,
give each creature on this earth the right and respect to this land
as we once had
[yes, i am including us in that we]
[though we being humanity, probably/possibly not we being my particular race]
to actually be as equal as nature created us
but…
if we really have been as terrible for this planet
as i expect
and we do in fact go through a mass-extinction event
[moreso than we are going through now]
it brings comfort to my heart that nature can reclaim
so quickly
so easily…
i still worry about each individual bird and dolphin and seedling
[and human being]
but it comforts me a little
to know that, as a whole
maybe we haven’t made such an
unerasable
footprint.
i feel
as though
i am the observer
the storyteller
the tie-togetherer
when it comes to global climate change;
i travel
and watch
and observe
and i see the Bronx flooding
and Brooklyn flooding
and then i travel away
from the concrete and subway tunnels and solid architecture
to the malleable lands
hills and valleys and mountains
of Pennsylvania
and i see the flooding of that countryside
ditches
becoming creeks
becoming rivers
becoming flooding alerts all over the roads
every hour or two another alert in on my phone
knowing it’s the aftereffects of a hurricane
and seeing watch-warnings for tornados
seeing the sky go dusk-dark at 1pm
and open up, finally, to the brightness
of 6pm
as we drive out of the stormclouds
heading where we had been…
i am aware that nature is unpredictable
and that storms like these often happen in a lifetime
but i’ve now lived directly through at least three ‘one in a lifetime’ storms
(and watched probably 20 others from afar)
and i am
worried.
uncertainty
turned excitement
turned apprehension
turned…who knows
at least i’m still in
‘go with the flow’
mode.
~~~
the rain pouring
feels apocalyptic
though no such apocalypse has yet to take hold onto a whole nation
just whole communities,
whole cities,
whole states…
[or are we simply feeling immune
because our whole country
is so damn huge?]
~~~
quick and dirty
morning poems
so i have time
to get quick clean
before heading out
not away from the storm
but deeper into
(solely for the sake
of dogs
and nature
and family)
the calm before the storm
creates excitement for said storm.
it’s the weightless moment in circus beats,
that moment that gives you a peek into the idea
that time is a mortal construction:
that second that lasts a lifetime,
you can tell what comes next
and plan your attack,
and set up a nest inside which to watch the storm
roll by.
~
i wrote this
on June 12
originally,
and i don’t necessarily remember
that particular storm
but i remember storms as i love them:
nature’s fireworks,
conversing with the thunder,
dancing in my hometown rain
before i’d fly halfway across the world…
but this storm…
the calm
before
brings apprehension,
we’ve seen one hurricane/tropical storm
flood our [hopefully](soon-to-be) borough,
we’ve seen the devastation
global climate change
can wreak
and we hope folks stay safe
and we hope not too much damage is done
and we hope to have a nice meeting with this
Henri
but we hope to not keep him in our hearts and homes for long…
kipventures 