September 22, 2026

if you are reading this poem from far into the future
don’t let those who write the history books convince you
that this was a golden era of plenty

it was not

it absolutely is not

things are really really really bad right now

but don’t let them convince you that everyone was
dour
sad all the time
doing nothing
having no happiness

we find joy

we find joy

it’s what keeps us going/living/fighting for the future
for you

the black and brown folks i know
the immigrants and citizens
the neurodivergent and disabled
and all my queer kin, we can find
happiness in even the bleakest of places

it’s what makes us so resilient

it’s what makes us all worth fighting for

even when we give up on
fighting for ourselves, we
continue on, fighting for
each other

and that, i believe, is one of the most beautiful things
about our community

[and what those in power
absolutely lack]

so

things are bad

no one has enough money to truly live

ice is terrorizing everyone
no matter immigration status

our rights are being stripped away
and we are absolutely aware of it

and

we dance in the streets
we find someone to hold at night
we feed our dogs and our cats
and our fish/birds/lizards/other animals
sometimes before we feed ourselves
we care for each other
and seem to continue passing around the
same twenty dollars
ad infinitum, but damn, that twenty dollars
can make a difference in someone’s week
and we play games
and we check in
and we let each other know when we’ve
gotten home safely
and we meet strangers whom we know
care about people
and we give our knowledge to them
we give our trust to them
because we know we cannot continue
without others
and others cannot continue
without us doing our part

it sucks
and it’s joyful
and we’re working so hard against
those who would take everything away
for a lackluster feeling of power and a hoard of
fake monetary wealth

but we are concentrating on each other and the joy right now

those who suck can continue to fuck up humanity in their little gated communities
and giant white houses

here is where the party is

and the party is
revolution

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.