Category: Lament

on Christmas eve

On By ©️K.T. 2025In anthropocene, apartheid, birds, Capitalism, Chicago, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Cities, december, earthlings, fauna, flora, kin, Lament, Lamentations, Poem, poetry, Proof of Life, son, wildlife1 Comment

i traveled a river of concrete in a machine,
you traveled an ocean of air in a machine,
babies crying, inconsolably, you said
i said, eustachean tubes aren’t meant for 30,000 feet.

i am not meant for this,
neither are you,
neither are they.

not the opposite of joy
on Christmas eve
but the false pursuit of it
whatever is actually contrary to it
even if we don’t know it when we see it.
even if we refuse to know it when we see it.

if i allow myself to cry, he will see it on my face.

Continue reading “on Christmas eve” →

399

On By ©️K.T. 2025In anthropocene, author, autumn, bears, bruin, Crone, Cronehood, Death, Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, endings, fauna, Grand Teton, grandmother, june, kin, kinship, Lament, Lamentations, Life, Life and Death, Mother, National Parks, photograph, Poem, wildlifeLeave a comment

The Queen, Mother and Grandmother Grizzly Bear,

the iconic Matriarch of Grand Teton National Park & the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem

Monday morning, June 22, 2020,
Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming, US
The iconic and prolific female grizzly bear [399] — a mother and grandmother was in forage with her own eldest adult daughter [610] — also a mother, along with her cubs and grand cubs.

399, pictured here, who should be referred to respectfully as Grand Mother Bear, at the age of 24, in Spring of 2020 birthed four cubs [a rare, large litter no matter the age of the grizzly, but at 24, was truly astounding] was with 610, whom should be called Daughter Bear, who birthed two cubs as well.
All but two of the six cubs were mostly hidden by the deep sagebrush and dense fog.

What wild majesty to behold.
Lodged in my mind’s eye forevermore.

photo by: author

“Grizzly 399” is gone,

and this Autumn, and last, and every season in between have required so much Auden

Continue reading “399” →

phenology II

On By ©️K.T. 2025In autobiographical, autumn, being, biographical, climate, Climate Chaos, Climate Collapse, Crone, crone chronicles, Crone Consciousness, Cronehood, Death, Earth hospice, empire, Gaza, Genocide, Hospice, israel, kill lists, kinship, Lament, Lamentations, land, Land Back, Mother, Mother God, Motherhood, mourning, Palestine, phenology, photograph, photography, Poem, poet, poetry, Resistance, Revolution, Samsara, War, ZionismLeave a comment

lilacs re-leaf, re-bloom
in October
hummingbird moths feed,

common lilacs [Syringa vulgaris]
— not cultivars —
in unprecedented re-leaf and re-bloom
October 12, 2024


and simultaneously,

She’s un-be-coming a human be-ing

She’s destined to,

we’re destined to, too


no
need to
tell me, explain
what’s happening

as constant witness,

as constant, remote witness to slaughter,

as constant gardener,

as constant tender,

as constant daughter,


i see.

i recognize.

i know,

Continue reading “phenology II” →

ghosts

On By ©️K.T. 2025In anthropocene, autumn, Capitalism, climate, Climate Acceptance, Climate Chaos, Climate Collapse, Colonization, Crone, crone chronicles, Crone Consciousness, Death, Dendronglow, dying, Earth, Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, ecocide, Funerary, Genocide, ghosts, Hospice, kin, Lament, Lamentations, Life, Life and Death, liminal, mourning, october, Poem, poetry, Sixth Mass Extinction, WarLeave a comment

if you’re seeing this, you’re alive,

though dying — no matter your age, health, relative safety, relative comfortability —

on this living, though suffering and actively dying, planet

Earthlings and Earth together in a protracted hospice

right now, in these brief years, these grief years,

we are the “ever-living ghosts of what once was”

a “was” that most all of us alive this morning have never known as lived experience — save for the untouched tribes — 10,000 Uncontacted Peoples — 10,000 unsystematized, “uncivilized”

and the Ocean, and the few, still-standing Ancient One Trees; the untouched Desert, and the Mountains — even the youngest of them — The Tetons and The Himalayas, know what it “was” to be alive.

we are mere ghosts, walking dead.

Continue reading “ghosts” →

come back, come back

On By ©️K.T. 2025In agraria, aviary, birds, bucolia, crone chronicles, dirt road chronicles, Essay, goodbye city life, hummingbird, Kahlo, Lament, ornithology, poemo, ruralia, Spiritive, Spirrative, wildlifeLeave a comment
hummingbirds where have you gone?
ADDENDUM: the hummingbirds did come back, and as of September 8, 2024 10:00 AM EDT, they are still here.

mid-late april, optimistic
early may, expectant
mid may, consternation

meticulously,
i sanitize the vessels,
bases and perches
soaking and fastidiously brushing the red and yellow flower parts to clean them of all gunk and lodged debris
i employ two, simple, pinched-waist, glass hummingbird feeders //
there are more beautiful, ornamental, more expensive or cheaper feeders available,
but this design functions best/ i am a seven year veteran of hummingbird joy.

age-old recipe for hummingbird feeder nectar:

1 part pure cane sugar.

PURE. CANE. SUGAR.

to

4 parts water.

the end.

not beet sugar, not organic sugar,
nor turbinado, nor raw, never brown sugar

this so very important – other sugars are too susceptible to mold, to bacteria, or contain too much iron in the form of molasses.

pure, white, refined and granulated cane sugar, chemically and nutritionally, most closely approximates natural flower nectar

never ever, use store-bought nectar mix* or pre-mix*;
*and when in a store that sells that toxic shit, bury the packets or hide the bottles behind other merchandise on the shelf — just as when i spot Clinton, Kissinger, Amy Schumer, Dubya, or Sheryl Sandberg non-fiction fictions on the shelf at bookstores or big box stores — i flip that tripe backwards and upside down
so, again:

age-old recipe for hummingbird feeder nectar:

1 part cane sugar

to

4 parts fresh water,

i use pristine well water, here: i am so very fortunate: no chlorine, no fluoride just elements and minerals, no water treatment except for a sediment filter

these two simple ingredients vigorously shaken together, not stirred/
just like my homemade margarita with ice
in the same one-quart glass mason jar

i check the feeders
throughout the day
i obsess, i pray, in my own way

first incantation songs
then lamentation songs

a carpenter bee tricks my ear while i am on my knees digging in the garden

was that her? is she back? are they back?

no, that wasn’t;
no, they’re not.

i google:

“do hummingbirds return to the same summer nesting and feeding grounds each year?”
&
“how long do hummingbirds live?

Continue reading “come back, come back” →

an open letter on a 65°f primary election day in Michigan | day 145 of Israel’s acute genocide of the Palestinian People

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Abortion, anthropocene, anti-fascism, Ceasefire, climate, Climate Collapse, Crone, Crone Consciousness, Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, ecocide, exposition, Free Palestine, Gaza, Genocide, israel, Lament, Lamentations, Liberation, Open Letter, Palestine, Poem, Rafah, State of Israel, U.S. Elections, womb, women, Womenfolk, ZionismLeave a comment

good afternoon:

i feel like i should have started my heirloom tomato and chiltepin seeds on New Year’s Eve, but i haven’t even ordered or sorted seeds yet;

that I should’ve picked up a bottle of mineral facial sunscreen and given myself a pedicure yesterday;

that the swimsuits overwhelming retail spaces are not for spring breakers and resort goers but for anyone headed to North Avenue Beach in Chicago or Silver Beach in Michigan today;

and that i wish i didn’t know that the Thwaites Glacier is hanging on by fewer and weaker pinning points;

do you respect or even revere military service? i know many of you certainly do/

Continue reading “an open letter on a 65°f primary election day in Michigan | day 145 of Israel’s acute genocide of the Palestinian People” →

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.” →

the recession

On By ©️K.T. 2025In climate, Climate Chaos, Climate Collapse, Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, ecocide, Hospice, Lament, Lamentations, Near Term Human Extinction, planetary hospice, Poem, poetry, Sixth Mass Extinction, thresholdLeave a comment

i witnessed the last of the snow piles
hand-shoveled or machine-threwn
and the natural drifts too
and the mound in the hollow
of the hügelkultur crescent moon

slowly recede, in a mesmerizing, seemingly molassic, week’s long retreat
then finally and sadly, concede

to the undormant grasses and soft ground beneath
to the sunlit warmth
of these nouveau
great lakes winters

my god,

what global madness
this adored microcosm, my priceless homestead, reveals
and catechizes for me:

our violent, human heat
an unrelenting torrent of accelerant that would
vanquish the ancients


melt greenland’s sheets of ice,
calve antarctic glaciers, strand polar bears,
expose or drown granite, basalt, gneiss


all, in the time of
that old sugar maple’s life

Continue reading “the recession” →

the year of unmagical thinking

On By ©️K.T. 2025In december, Didion, end-of-year, Joan Didion, Lament, Lamentations, new year poem, new year’s eve, Poem, poetry, threshold, TonantzinLeave a comment

all delusions were set out in the meadow for scavengers
along with all the seeds she didn’t start this year
she had prophetic dreams
she barely touched her tarot
he now lives entirely outside of her heart
she showed up first, but only as her second, or third choice
then, she died days later, in hospice, at 56,
and presumably,
knows now that she couldn’t take it with her, Egyptian-Pharaonic style
blood and cultural descendants of holocaust survivors are revelling in an ongoing genocide
and someone finally inspected his spots,
but leopards cannot change theirs
some of us, are just about ‘dat’ life, she re-learned
others, lie to themselves about their innocence,
or responsibility, including me,
we are all stereotypes
radical self-promotion and self-reinforcing mediocrity are apparently the new power couple,
she didn’t make it to the Remedios Varo show at the Art Institute of Chicago – with, and on, purpose.
her bones began to ache during sunlight, too, so that’s new,
”People incapable of guilt usually do have a good time.”

Continue reading “the year of unmagical thinking” →

kill the coyote v.2

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Alpenglow, Lament, land, Poem, poetryLeave a comment

i won’t warn you with
my voice, anymore

tell me,
how do you calmly
tell someone to
“look, brake, stop, now, please”
in a nano-second?
calm but with desperate urgency?
without amplification?
without proselytizing?
without the infusion or projection of panic?
without the prescience of the future unfolding in the very moment?

tell me,
i’ll wait,

while you kill the coyote

crossing the road

that crosses razed forest

clear-cut for runs and Aprés-ski,
for lumber to build the 3-day-stay mansions – which they unironically call, “cabins,”
a settlement of a pop-up-Bavaria™️ for them in the valley of the mountains of

the Sangre de Cristo?

the lifeblood of the Red Willows.

the very same road

to access the trailhead
to the pristine glacial lake
with views of Taos Peak

a profanity of epithets

“williams” lake

“wheeler” peak

where you go, unironically,

to briefly escape

this World,
the violence of this World,
your World

the one constructed in your image,

and in your favor

Continue reading “kill the coyote v.2” →

the mourning cloak

On By ©️K.T. 2025In butterfiles, Crone, Crone Consciousness, Death, Funerary, grief, Lament, Lamentations, liminal, liminality, mourning, Poem, poet, poetry, spirit, Spiritive, spirits, thresholdLeave a comment

near invisible,

imagine silk organza, chameleoned

peach-pink colored, when i Am naked,

the color of water as i bathe.

sky blue, golden, sherbet, grayed or midnight black,

when i Am outside

ever-shifting with the time of day and weather,

once, even green,

as i knelt down in the cold grass

while diaphanous to all the unobservant

i Am dressed in this cloak of mourning

and the hem is lined with lead

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Harvest Moon, northern hemisphere, 2023

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Death, dying, Lament, Life, Life and Death, liminal, limineen, moon, Poem, poetry, threshold, Womenfolk, WordsLeave a comment

i missed the rise of the
Full Moon last night,
preoccupied in thought
hands busy in work

she missed the rise of the
Full Moon last night
preoccupied in pain
early to bed, early to bed-ridden

i say, i will witness Her tonight
waning only slightly, gibbous,
99, 98 percent
or next month,
with confidence, and guilt

i say, she won’t witness Her tonight,
or next month, or any phase
Zero percent
wondering if she ever considered the Moon,
with confidence, and guilt

the word “full” lingers on beyond the Moon’s illumination
— as relative,
in these lives of ours

Continue reading “Harvest Moon, northern hemisphere, 2023” →