Category: kin

“The Earth Is My Government”

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, ecocide, Home, ki, kin, kinship, Mother, planetary hospiceLeave a comment

“The Earth is Our government.”

“We are not talking about any political solution. We are not talking about politics at all. We are talking about survival. Our survival will be guaranteed by we, the human people, accepting our responsibilities and honoring the Earth and the natural world of which we are a part will guarantee our survival. There are natural laws that we must honor and that we must obey. This is the only way in which can show the rightful honor to The Earth. We must remember that The Earth is the source of all of our life. The Earth takes care of us while we are alive in this form and The Earth takes us back when we have departed to the spirit world. We must remember The Earth. We must remember our spiritual, real power connection to The Earth. We are an extension of The Mother Earth. This is our source of power, not the economics, not the politics, not repressive government, not liberal government. Our source of power is us and our spiritual connection to The Earth and our recognition of that.”

-John Trudell
“Freedom... We’re born into a reality where you have to pay to be born, you have pay to die, and you gotta have money to live. Now where is the free?”

 -John Trudell
“Our obligations and our loyalty have to be to the earth, and they have to be to our sense of community and to our people and to our relations. Our obligations and loyalty should not be to a government that will not take care of our needs. Our obligations and loyalty should not be to a government that has proven time and time again that it is the enemy of the people unless the people are rich in dollars. That has been the consistent history of Western civilization and the American Corporate State Government – that’s reality. They are not our friends, they do not care about us. We have to face the reality that we have an enemy.”

-John Trudell
“600 years ago, that word ‘Indian,’ that sound was never made in this hemisphere. That sound, that noise was never ever made … ever. And we’re trying to protect that — the Indian as an identity. … we’re starting not to recognize ourselves as human beings. We’re too busy trying to protect the idea of a Native American or an Indian, but we’re not Indians and we’re not Native Americans. We’re older than both concepts. We’re the people. We’re the human beings.”

-John Trudell
"There is no old way, no new way, there is a way of life. We must live in balance with the earth. We MUST do it. We have no choice....The Earth gives us life, not the American government. The earth gives us life, not the multi-national corporate government. The Earth gives us life, we need to have the Earth. We must have it, otherwise our life will be no more. So we must resist what they do."

-John Trudell
It’s our spiritual responsibility to protect the earth.

-John Trudell

THE EARTH IS OUR GOVERNMENT

crow-hearted

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Animals, Crone, crone chronicles, Crows, Death, dirt road chronicles, Earthling, earthlings, ki, kin, kinship, outer rural, relationships, the old godsLeave a comment

i have a heart for crows.

a Crow died and also lived here

likely dying during or before the brief, but deep snowdrifts of january 2024

and definitely not by predation; Crows are simply too smart for the local feral cat bird-killers (the only worthwhile information that author Jonathan Franzen ever imparted to me) — and work in groups to warn and defend against hawks and owls;

Continue reading “crow-hearted” →

Degrowth or die-out: an imperative for the insatiable species.

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Capitalism, Climate Chaos, Climate Collapse, Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, ecocide, Essay, ki, kin, kinship, Lament, Lamentations, Land Back, planetary hospice, Poem, Sixth Mass ExtinctionLeave a comment

this informal essay was inspired by Jeff Gibbs’ statement posted February 6, 2024;

I publish this, as per — to be publicly accountable and on record.

Development is development is development. All development damages the remaining already profoundly fragmented wilderness-ish habitat no matter what kind of development it is — no matter the seemingly innocuous or good intent: a paved bike path through forest, a solar array in the desert, an ayahuasca retreat center on a river in northern Illinois, a new organic farm.

“If you build it, they will come.” And then never stop coming and building.

We must stop destroying land to build more of anything — we must begin to reclaim and return land to nature and welcome, encourage, champion and personally embody the practices of degrowth.

An example of behavior:

“You should build a little rental cottage on your land over there for supplemental income and to sustain yourself through your golden years.”

– no, i will not build anything there ever — that’s where i set out the salt licks for the deer – by the three apple trees; no, that area is too near to where the blue racer lays her eggs every summer; no! as tempting as that false security is, i will live modestly and reject improvements for improvement’s sake — and embrace flaws and maintenance, and do with what i have — or without. this land is not mine; i merely temporarily co-occupy and humbly and gratefully tend and share this land.

also, there are no more golden years — to quote Beatrix Kiddo, “Bitch, you don’t have a future” — do you understand the science, the projections? let me help you to, i want to.

An opposite example of behavior:

Continue reading “Degrowth or die-out: an imperative for the insatiable species.” →

postpartum

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Alchemy, Aurum, Birth, Crone, Cronehood, Feminine, grandmother, kin, maiden, maternity, Mother, Poem, poetry, Sacred Feminine, symbiosity, womb, women, WomenfolkLeave a comment

fetal cells
remain in a mother’s body for decades
they know this
particularly
because of mothers of sons

son cells discovered
co-mingling in their mother’s
blood
and marrow
long after their first breaths of atmosphere
and for far too many mothers,
long after their child’s last

we mothers, in-secret chimeras
29, 50,
years after birthing /

no wonder

he breathes
1,191.582 miles away from me

as the crow flies,
as the monarch flies
as the hummingbird flies

and still, i feel the cells of gold i alchemized

for 42 strange, wondrous weeks

in my crone bones

postpartum is forever

Continue reading “postpartum” →

Oh, Tonantzin, Our Mother, Our Lady of Guadalupe!

On By ©️K.T. 2025In america, Capitalism, Colonization, Congo, Creation Story, Crone, demons, DRC, Earthling, Gaza, Genocide, Guadalupe, Indigenous Land, kin, La Virgen of Guadalupe, Lamentations, Life and Death, Mother, Mother God, Palestine, Sacred Feminine, spirits, State of Israel, The Virgin of Guadalupe, Tonantzin, WomenfolkLeave a comment

Today, on the feast day of La Virgen de Guadalupe, from the valley and river of the wolves,

who is and always was Tonantzin, the Nahuas’ Universal Mother of Earth, they being one and the same parthenogenetic Creatrix-entity of Life —and of Death, here on Earth:

art by @lala_wera

In the name of Tonantzin, I rebuke the State of Israel and the United States

— both nations stand defiantly in their ongoing slaughter of 18,000 human beings so far — nearly all of those killed — are Palestinian civilians and more than half of them are children — hundreds of thousands more are injured, maimed — in tremendous pain, suffering from unfathomable loss, from hunger, thirst, and disease — and dispossessed of and displaced from their mothers, families, beds, kitchens, homes, pets, art, schools, toys, lifework — and land,

and the Western and Eastern global capitalist powers — in their protracted genocide, mass exploitation, enslavement and dispossession of the People of Congo,

I call to and incant unto Tonantzin for the downfall of these two seated governments, and of the despots and oligarchs, that are a scourge on this good Earth and all Life upon it.

Tonantzin Tlalli Coatlicue

May these demons be stricken by Her snakes and devoured by Her wolves and may their bones be cast into the eternal inferno with not one cinder or ash remaining. Forgotten Forever.

Continue reading “Oh, Tonantzin, Our Mother, Our Lady of Guadalupe!” →

definition | author | proof of life:

On By ©️K.T. 2025In author, Crone, Cronehood, Earthling, Gnostic, Her, ki, kin, kinship, liminal, liminality, limineen, maiden, Mother, Motherhood, Pneumatic, Poem, poet, poetry, self portaiture, witch, WomenfolkLeave a comment

foremost Earthling, crone,
and mother to a golden boy;
nightly traveler into liminality;
mostly obeisant
to intuition & premonition;
poet, writer;
heart-sleeved,
bleeding heart pessimist;
devoted friend of crows (at last),
meadow-restorer/tender,
& long-lost sister to snakes, bats and coyotes,
deer & bluebird whisperer,
seed saver, food grower,
an admirer and propagator
of lilacs, hydrangeas,
sycamores, mulberries, pawpaws and oaks;
dna-tested kin to goldenrod, milkweed,
bison, cottonwoods, thistle and monarchs;
wader into ephemeral and glacial
lakes and deep snow;
Moon’s luminous, loyal daughter
& Sun’s prodigal, ever-questioning shadow
equally;
devout, ecstatic
desert, forest and river worshipper;
reverent of and humbly deferent to
bear, wolf, moose, elk & bighorn sheep and hummingbirds;
a mountain, canyon, valley,
prairie and beach walker;


i swam and swam and swam my way alive.

Continue reading “definition | author | proof of life:” →

Feed the Wildlife! a radical imperative (& request)

On By ©️K.T. 2025In crone chronicles, Crone Consciousness, Cronehood, dirt road chronicles, Earthling, earthlings, from the inner city to outer rural, ki, kin, kinship, planetary hospice, reciprocity, symbiosity, wildlifeLeave a comment


please FEED THE WILDLIFE! if you have means to do so — to help our Earthling kin survive and thrive in the extreme temperatures and conditions of winter and summer — and during fall and spring migration

why is this radical?

because we have been instilled and warned to not do this!

but we now need to feed the wildlife we share habitat with — precisely because we’ve destroyed so much of their own habitat — and their preferred and once-abundant wild food and water sources

(but please only set out food for those wild kin who visit or inhabit your yards, balconies, patios or city parks – still, never feed our more-than-human kin in wilderness, or national, federal, state or county parks, forests, natural areas or preserves)

A charcuterie board for resident Crows
in their favorite spot to feast — the stone slab footprint of a former barn.

Crows are very clean and considerate
more-than-human kin— they prefer to wash their food with water and to wait for their entire family to assemble before eating.
Continue reading “Feed the Wildlife! a radical imperative (& request)” →

deer hunting season | regular firearm, November 15 – 30, 2023, Michigan, U.S.

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Animals, Ceasefire, deer, deer hunting, Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, ecocide, fauna, Gaza, Genocide, holocaust, hunters, hunting, hunting season, ki, kill lists, kin, kinship, Life and Death, November, Palestine, Philosophy, planetary hospice, Poem, Tradition As Violence, Tradition Is Violence, wildlife, ZionismLeave a comment

the gunshot
crisp, startling
a radiating crackle
floating on the unusually warm autumn air

my dog bolts for the house, and once inside, takes cover under the desk – this is a natural response to explosives

fear, confusion, rage, sorrow course through my marrow — we are made of the same stuff

then i remember that deer-stalking-luring-and-killing with a gun season started today

i’d seen the dignified six-point buck head south earlier,
the same direction of the blast / i realize that he may be dead, now

then i remember that i haven’t seen the
doe and her playful and curious fawns
in over a month’s time

on my way to the highway entrance ramp,
i avoid the main roads
where the bodies of two deer lay dead
a half mile apart
/ i pretend they can’t be, that they aren’t my familiars /

the deer always seem to be lying just barely off the road

do they collapse and die there identically — or does someone drag them there by their legs or antlers; are there protocols for this?
what does the weight of a dead deer body or dead human body feel like in the hands? are the dead heavier? would i be able to drag a deer or human body? maybe — in my heyday
i have only ever held dead rabbits, squirrels, birds, fish in my own two hands

then i remember that our first dog was euthanized at home, in the back yard, in the June Sun, but it was not me who lifted and carried his body away / why didn’t i carry him? back then, i was in my strength heyday.

Continue reading “deer hunting season | regular firearm, November 15 – 30, 2023, Michigan, U.S.” →

art appreciation: thresholds

On By ©️K.T. 2025In art, artists, Crone Consciousness, Death, dying, Finnish, Gnosis, Gnostic, Hospice, Jung, Jungian, kin, Life and Death, liminal, liminality, limineen, spirits, the old gods, threshold, TransistionLeave a comment

first in a series

The Entrance Gate on the far bank of The River Tuoni according to the Kalevala and as depicted by Finnish artist Hugo Simberg

THE ENTRANCE TO TUONELA, 1898,
oil on canvas
Hugo Simberg, 1873-1917
Finland

Tuonela

In this piece, which is an interpretation of one of many universal myths which impart the water crossing and trek we all are to embark upon after death,

most of the departed climb up the steep, barren embankment and enter the tunnel individually, while a child and a dog are tenderly escorted — led by the hand or carried by chthonic monks into the tunnel leading to the

Underworld

the tunnel appears under geological strata — presumably the surface of Earth, with blue sky and forest in background above it

interestingly, the artist’s limited use of perspective also allows the sky and forest to be viewed potentially as the Great Beyond itself — as a Northern or Alpine “paradise,” a Valhalla, beyond the sojourn in and through the tunnel

a high, solid, wooden fence bisects the river, embankment and tunnel and prevents arrivals from observing the exiting monks — only one-way vision and traffic for the dead

and while the monks do not cast shadows, the human figures continue to be accompanied by their shadows; for those who subscribe to Jungian analytical psychology or gnostic texts, the physical shadow depicted may be interpreted symbolically as the anima/animus of the person — which would ultimately disappear during the tunnel upon the full reintegration of the Self/Soul/Spirit

through re-unification with one’s divine twin (which is sometimes also called the cosmic/celestial twin or daimon) after having been separated during human incarnation and birth.

author’s note: 

i often and prefer to call the underworld aka afterlife “The Great Wide Open of the All” — which in my liminal gleanings is a supremely contented blackness of universal consciousness, devoid of thought or sensation — a perfected existence in the dark cosmic fabric of nothingness, 

there may be levels in the afterlife which may manifest our own personal imaginal constructs of paradise — far beyond what our limited sensory perception and experiences of life on Earth are - such as, an Alpine Paradise upon emerging from the tunnel - 

i know full well the breathtaking beauty and feeling upon exiting a scary and lengthy mountain tunnel where my heart and eyes are stunned by a grand vista of forest, peaks and sky — from my many road trips in the Western U.S.

yet, i truly prefer the former — when i die, i want to rest for all eternity — although with just one desire, one sensation: warmth.
Continue reading “art appreciation: thresholds” →

The Murder of an August Meadow

On By ©️K.T. 2025In August, Crone, crone chronicles, dirt road chronicles, ki, kin, Lament, Lamentations, plant beings, Poem, poetry, summer, symbiosity, wildlifeLeave a comment

full bloom,
milkweed, goldenrod, chicory,
aster,
thistle or teasel — i don’t know
they’re 7, 8, 9, feet tall
their leaf cups full of collected dew, or rain

the meadow is just all

give give give.

in fifteen minutes,
give or take,


all, gone
beneath a tractor blade

take, take, take,

take.

Continue reading “The Murder of an August Meadow” →

the mourning doves

On By ©️K.T. 2025In earthlings, human non-beings, hunters, hunting, ki, kin, Poem, poetry, wildlifeLeave a comment

i still surprise them
even after nearly six years of quiet-yet-unstealthy,
devotion to them

they’ve never once held their roost or kept their forage
upon my careful intrusion, my neutral presence
to maybe know of me
to maybe trust of me

their survival instinct is so strong
but i still take umbrage,
playful, but umbrage, nonetheless

then i remember Nemerov’s words about their feathers
in our caps, our pillows, our coats
“The Distances They Keep,”
then i remember Kimmerer’s words about
the aweing ubiquity and incredible extinction of the Omimi,
Martha the Last, died 109 years ago come September,
then i read how happy fields of sunflowers are cultivated to serve as bait traps for dove hunters at my beloved Starved Rock – after all the lovely fall engagement and high school photo shoots wind down,
and of those who cruelly suggest their flesh is quite delicious

there is no honorable harvest among the descendants of thieves, of colonizers, of settlers, of “homesteaders” — i know this.

so, my god, yes,

stay shy, stay distant, dear doves,

there are many reasons, that i stay shy, stay distant, and in mourning too, but none as good as theirs

addendum poem:

“dove,”
what a lovely name for a gentle bird
what a lovely name for a newly-born girl
what a terrible name for a woman in this world

Continue reading “the mourning doves” →

weeds, july

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Crone, Crone Consciousness, july, kin, Poem, poemo, poet, poetry, summer, The Trickster, TricksterLeave a comment

while washing dinner dishes
a hummingbird surprised me
feeding on a milk thistle
them overgrown “weeds” just outside my window

you see, it’s not just about my garden that i tend to
but the things i leave alone,
that i let go,

i let grow wild, too

i didn’t get a photo, my hands were too wet with soap
yet i really wanted you to know about this, really, to know this, about us, both

you see, we, errant human weeds, you need us too
we’ll prick your finger
we’ll quench your thirst
we’ll tell you truths

up close & personal
Continue reading “weeds, july” →

night falls, late july

On By ©️K.T. 2025In agraria, Arte Agraria, Arte Bucolia, Arte Ruralia, bucolia, Crone, earthlings, Garden of Eden, ki, kin, nightfall, outer rural, Poem, poet, poetry, ruralia, witchLeave a comment

nightfall
proceeds like this

small rodentia head under, in or up,
mourning doves perform a vigorous last forage,
hummingbirds, always reliable for last call, drink up/
rabbits boldly show out in numbers to spaghetti-slurp dandelion, plantain and clover stems/
barn and tree swallows own the lower troposphere

red-winged blackbirds
cardinals, and robins
in that exact order
loudly call everyone home for the night

the air surrenders to insects,
the sky — to bats, beautifully acrobatic /hey!/
cottonwoods or black walnuts will host owls on supremely, rare summer evenings

moths, beetles take the lamps
frogs take the sidewalks, steps, stoop,
walls, windows,
and eventually, the lamps too/
toads pace and post sentry on barn thresholds

deer passage through — or bed down
in the tall unmowed grasses, now properly – a prairie, a meadow,
natural salt licks — and halved, quartered and whole apples,
are my selfishly generous lures ’til autumn’s own bounty

coyotes herald the Moon
or the first dark train,
depending on the phase,

lightning bugs mimic eye-level stars,
golden-gold like our Sun and in asynchronous constellations

raccoons strategize, then raid, but i know to expect them now
possums about their business — quiet, slow, sweet — these, my dear ones, stay a while, please

cricketsong
errant cicadas, what year is it, again?
and incessant croaking, banjoing, ribbitting

fog may appear,
then settle — or lift,

or maybe the night is sultry, still or clear

Continue reading “night falls, late july” →