contemplating intent, consent, kill lists and ceasefire: deer hunting season, regular firearm, November 15 – 30, 2024 Michigan, U.S.

On November 16, 2024November 1, 2025 By ©️K.T. 2025In agraria, america, Animals, anthropocene, autumn, Ceasefire, Crone, crone chronicles, Crone Consciousness, Cronehood, Death, deer, deer hunting, Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, ecocide, Essay, fauna, Gaza, Genocide, holocaust, hunters, hunting, hunting season, Hylic, kin, kinship, Life and Death, liminality, limineen, Manifest Destiny, November, outer rural, Palestine, Philosophy, planetary hospice, Politics, Psychic, ruralia, the accidental seeker & intentional opiner, the old gods, Tradition As Violence, Tradition Is Violence, ZionismLeave a comment

“The assumption that animals are without rights and the illusion that our treatment of them has no moral significance is a positively outrageous example of Western crudity and barbarity. Universal compassion is the only guarantee of morality.”

Arthur Schopenhauer.

a white-tailed deer drinks from a bird bath,
which was presumed to be of exclusive use of songbirds — especially, eastern bluebirds,
on the land the author occupies
Halloween 2024
“all treatery, no trickery”

Regular firearm, deer hunting season began yesterday in Michigan, United States of America, and the crack of rifles and the blast of shotguns destroy both peace and life.

There is some version of a legalized, defined kill list or belated, legalized “protection list” for nearly every non-human animal being population on Earth. And, for human animal being populations on Earth too.

What defines murder for human beings, of the human animal body?

INTENT.

All Hunting is INTENT – intent to kill.

All animal “livestock” agriculture is INTENT — intent to kill for profit.

Genocide is INTENT.

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goldilocks’ zone

On January 26, 2024February 1, 2025 By ©️K.T. 2025In climate, Climate Chaos, Climate Collapse, Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, Hospice, Near Term Human Extinction, Poem, poetry, Sixth Mass Extinction, symbiosityLeave a comment

the widespread muck,
usual to late March
now spoils the January, the December, February too

there are no more
seasons,

only drownt
or parched

what use
is axial tilt, solar distance
while these men
lock-up the thermostat and disarrange the elements

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“The crew compartment’s breaking up”

On September 13, 2023September 25, 2023 By ©️K.T. 2025In Climate Acceptance, Climate Chaos, Climate Collapse, Crone Consciousness, Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, ecocide, exposition, Funerary, Hospice, Lament, Lamentations, Life and Death, music, planetary hospice, Song, Songs, Space Shuttle ColumbiaLeave a comment

John Roderick wrote the above line and repeats it seven times(!) in his song, “The Commander Thinks Aloud”— about the Space Shuttle Columbia Disaster that happened February 1, 2003

and, if I’m not careful, I will start to cry during the first verse


The Commander Thinks Aloud

Boys and girls in cars
Dogs and birds on lawns
From here I can touch the sun


Put your jackets on
I feel we're being born
The Tropic of Capricorn is below


We stall above the pole
Still your face is young
As we feel our weight return


A trail of shooting stars
The horses call the storm
Because the air contains the Charge


The radio is on
And Houston knows the score
Can you feel it, we're almost home

The crew compartment's breaking up
The crew compartment's breaking up
The crew compartment's breaking up
The crew compartment's breaking up
(This is all I wanted to bring home)

The crew compartment's breaking up
(This is all I wanted to bring home)

The crew compartment's breaking up
(This is all I wanted to bring home)

The crew compartment's breaking up
This is all I wanted to bring home to you

Songwriter: John Roderick, The Long Winters


The Commander Thinks Aloud lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Rough Trade Publishing

this song — since the very first time i (belatedly) heard and learned about it on the Song Exploder podcast in 2016 — became an instant melancholic metaphor-lamentation for me, even while retaining it’s very visceral and intended meaning —

at first, for the climate chaos we face on our communal spaceship — Spaceship Earth,

as in, “hey, do you realize we’re floating in space?” — then, why are we [deliberately] destroying the crew compartment?

and

for our lives — for the simplicity that is both stolen and lost

in the daily struggle — of and against exploitation, repression and oppression; in the daily drama of our dis/mis/mal contentment; in the daily, unnecessary grasping, striving, amassing and hoarding — whether for – or of, wealth, land, power, influence, reputation, career, fame, control or privilege —

or, in orbiting the Earth in a shuttle or space station or landing on the Moon in a spacecraft — when we could’ve just been human beings caretaking of this Eden and of each other.

and personally,

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night falls, late july

On July 28, 2023August 26, 2024 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

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the May plow

On May 8, 2023May 16, 2025 By ©️K.T. 2025In Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, ecocide, Hospice, Poem, poetry, spring, telepathy, wildlifeLeave a comment

the beautiful spring day that the fields are first plowed for the season is heartrending

the privacy, peace and space that non-human animals had on the barren 80 acres for the last six months is gone within minutes and hours

on the day they plow
the fields clear of last year’s stover
i stay quiet and invisible, indoors

there is a seen and unseen frantic attempt at evacuation, an exodus of

snakes, turtles, frogs, toads, rabbits, moles, voles, possums, weasels, marmots, skunks, raccoons, squirrels, mice, rats,

evicted without notice, again

geese and sandhill crane nests destroyed

over-wintered graves defiled

and newly-born deer crushed, plowed over and under

/this destruction, all,

for corn to fatten-up confined and tortured

pigs, cows, chickens, turkeys, salmon, catfish, tilapia

for human appetite, gluttony/

death eaters!

if i just stay quiet,
quieter than the snake and mole i saw yesterday,
if i just stay inside, unseen, all day ‘til Sun’s set, like the possum i saw last night,
then kin may seek refuge, find sanctuary here

to catch their breath

some of us have forgotten that they too breathe

and feel fear,

and scream, wail, and mourn

run!!! come, run here!!!
stay right here, please, the roads to west and south also bring death!

i put all my faith into telepathy today

the gulls arrive
chasing and taunting the tractor driver,

he’s no farmer
his hands literally never touch soil or seed

a machine operating a machine guided by satellite

if only the gulls or crows would pluck out his eyes when he dismounts

if only, i would.

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Earth

On April 22, 2023April 23, 2023 By ©️K.T. 2025In Crone Consciousness, Earth Day, Earth hospice, Earthling, earthlings, ecocide, Garden of Eden, ki, kin, Mother, planetary hospiceLeave a comment

“Do you realize – we’re floating in space?”

Our ancestors were born on a spaceship that never needed refueling, repair, redesign or course correction.

Earthlings have all uniquely adapted to their respective natural, geographical habitats and migration routes — except for the warring and dominant human regimes and cultures — that decided for all Earthlings that they should geo-engineer artificial environments and extract the blood and bodies of the ancient ones — for one species’ sole benefit — until Earth no longer feels or looks like Earth – and has become unrecognizable, unsafe or uninhabitable to most other species.

There are PCBs in the Atacama Trench and microplastics in fetal tissue of mammals – of humans.

Despite all the wonderful river and beach clean-up and tree planting projects on Earth Day, for me, it’s always a contemplative and sobering day.

We all have a stake—equally. Because if we do not save the environment and save the Earth, then whatever we do in civil rights or in a war against poverty will be of no meaning, because then we will have the equality of extinction and the brotherhood of the grave.
James L. Farmer,
at the very first Earth Day,
April 22, 1970