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 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 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

May 12, 2026

peacocks strut their stuff
opening a fan of flamboyance for
everyone’s eyes

(i often wonder if they know how fabulous they are, and if
the male peacocks actually open their tails for the purpose of finding
a mate, or if it’s a little bit egoistic and showing off for the purposes of showing off

for showing off’s sake)

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.

September 29, 2025

when one smacks a mosquito
good and full against
an arm or a leg or a wall or a table
there often remains
a dusty shadow of the mosquito
as if to say
“here is the evidence that you’ve taken a life,
now deal with it.”

August 13, 2025

it always feels so strange to me
when i can acutely feel the effects of
whatever is waking me up
actively waking me up

whether it’s writing poetry
or drinking coffee
or water
just recognizing my body and brain
slowly opening up
and letting the day in
like a flower in the sunshine

[we are all far more nature
than we
realize]

August 12, 2025

playing silly video games
of nature reclaiming industry
and religion
and it is one of very few things
offering me
solace
and comfort
and peace these days

[“Cloud Gardens” is the name of this game
should you need a similar
respite]

August 2, 2025

how quickly we get used to things —
lack of sleep
un-flavored coffee
living in the woods
being around people

and how quickly we end up missing it
when, inevitably, events end

what i’m trying to say is
i miss this retreat
already

August 1, 2025

i often forget
that the sounds of the birds
can be my morning page music
and the crickets and wind and rain
can replace my podcasts

i no longer use perpetual sound
to block out my own inner voice

[that sounds like some kind of growth]

but i think i have now found myself using any auditory distractions
as literal distractions
from boredom

and i do wish i was more on board
being bored
for creativity’s sake