Tag Archives: poetry

diaric, poetry, sonic bullion

’25 come to the river

photograph of the carp river, with wooden deck chairs in the river for you to soak your feet, nestled in the tree line on the riverbanks

sonic bullion

after “The Song of Amergin” • I am aranciata soda, the taste of summer • I am ice, summer and winter • I am the raven on your shoulder • i am the brain drain giving way, determined, into generation into joy • i am the recommendation, a pixie for your lashes • i am the edits, deep into the wedding scene • i am the astrology of death, the head injury mapped into her birth chart • i am wondering, could this be avoided? • i am the reminder, «chop wood, carry water» • I am Gaia filling the void green • I am packing • I leave again • I rejoice in her jewels, her tongue • «plumsy» and «wormaids» • I am the prayer card falling from the visor • I am the lip-plumping goodness and the mirror • I am her namesake • i am the freckle • I am the sultry air refusing to storm, stewing the chaos of too many cooks, threatening your sleep • i am the quiet camp morning after • I find Taliesin once more • I am the hike, unraveled • I find Taliesin once more • What is this frenzy? • Why are you all talking at once? • What but fear? • Would it kill you to remember your wallet? your keys? • Would it kill you to get out of my way? • Who but the wife asking him, «Then, why are you telling me what to do?» • I am the sphinx in the cave of desire, on the roof before the sage • I am the repose the following day • at home, alone, bliss • I am the song of the river eddying me

a full wall of firewood chopped for your campfire
cratered from impact, our only natural satellite • only place beyond earth where we have stepped foot • even if staged, our steps tickled with her magic dust • who else but the Moon? • explaining condensation; it’s the humidity’ll getcha • Mommy, can you clean this up? • Who else? • the film of beading water • Who else, but Midsummer?

what if it’s right to want what I want? • Revolutionary!

i need to learn the wolf’s language • Reading the dog-training manual • The Story of the Lost Child • Quilting • An Immense World • and of course, Mr. Putter & Tabby at storytime

before and after the river • and the lake • in praise of Kwik Trip, my nouveau White Hen •  my indulgences: chasing good time, gas station cappuccino after noon • malts and mother meltdowns • what can I say? it’s vacation • and then I realized, watching you • putter and poke the flame • our last campfire • Drunking drunkenness drunkerie • I’ve watched your dance for years • Thank you for showing me how to build a fire • like swimming, bettering my chances of survival

the necessary resurgence of the guillotine • the people’s tool, whistling • it’s Mars in Virgo, we gotta organize, folks. • parties won’t save us • «No conteste nada no firme nada» • racial terror, starring sharks and gators • you were such a shit yesterday • all the yesterdays since you were born • you expect me to come to your birthday party today? • serving denaturalization and day old meat • Video from Associated Press showing American contractors as they cheer after shooting Palestinians desperate for food. “Hell yeah boy” • “American contractors” aka mercenaries • puzzling crickets and mold from the ruling class • the ill forecast, the flood carrying camp, the mystic, our children away • “budget cuts” • the net is cut • frayed into legend

today, a mentor mused we are all living in the past, time flows from that future back to us • waves from the future complete • her takeaway? Hallelujah • long-distance tantra • my high school crush debuted in my dreams • 20 years later • hanging a suit nice and tall; no chin, though • requiring my attention • being of service, I let my towel fall • I no longer desired • my shapely allure his cross to bear • tired, pressing on, drying myself off, worrying where the children are, are they hungry? are they ready for their nap? are their blankets soft enough? are their sheets cool enough? drink something

and now, pressing sugar into lemon oil • baby learns to muddle • learning the differences between fleur de sel, sel gris • makes sense. lessons during oceantime

erratum

there’s weasels at this ball • flagrant monocles, furry suits, squeakin • a symbol of breakdown

i was born just in time, the last summer of the ‘80s • if i had the chance I would • not go back there to live, to relive • the old mistakes and crises I survived once already • the present holds advantage • hope • building something

from the archives

June-July diaries out of the past for the curious:

WKDC Radio, THE BARD

Cancer radio waves; ‘25 time capsule, for your listening pleasure:

coffee break

I’m one of those people who could and has drank coffee all day long. I attribute this to my upbringing, my blood; my Italian relatives who took an endless cup with sweets and sauce after dinner, and my beloved aunt who always had a pot brewing. Because you never know. The taste, the scent of coffee grinding, brewing, steeping are all soothing to me. Even decaf! Coffee is a loving anchor for me.

If you love coffee like I do, please drop your favorite spots and roasters in the comments. I love learning about and supporting coffee emporiums everywhere.

Recently, I tootled to the U.P., the Queen City, and had delicious coffee from these fine folks:

Snowbound Books on 3rd Street is an excellent place to bring your coffee and spend hours and good money on fantastic books.

If you’d like to materially support my writing and me (thank you!), please consider treating me to a cup of coffee.

Thank you, kind soul! and cheers ❤

community and collective care

  • Mahmoud Basem and his family in Gaza. Mahmoud is 20 years old, a university student. His home was bombed by the Israeli occupying forces, destroying his belongings including his laptop and clothes, and his family has been displaced several times. Along with his sister and brothers, Mahmoud is caring for his mother who is ill and his nieces and nephews. Tasneem is suffering through a skin condition due to life in the tent and Ibrahim suffered a mouth injury after an Israeli missile strike while he was searching for water for his family. Mahmoud and his family need food, water, formula and diapers, clothing, and our support.
  • Abood & Lucy. Abood is a young man and student in Gaza, Palestine. He and his family, including his beloved cat Lucy, need support for food, water, medical supplies, and continuing education.
  • The Sameer Project, a donation-based aid initiative for Gaza led by Palestinians, working to supply emergency shelter and aid to displaced families in Gaza.
  • Animal Friends Shelter is a safe Gazan haven for stray & abandoned cats. Our mission is to provide love, care, & shelter to these furry friends until they find their forever homes
  • Dr. Mohammed Hamad in Beit Hanoun, Gaza, Palestine. He has been arrested by the Zionist occupying force, and they destroyed his house. “My family and I have been displaced 10 times, fleeing bombing and killing, and each time I have lost everything I own. Now I have no money to buy food or drink. I am now trying to evacuate my family from the Gaza Strip. This is my story, not a figment of my imagination; it is the harsh reality of life in the Gaza Strip.”
  • The Little Miss Flint Clean Water Fund. Mari Copeny has been fighting the good fight to provide clean water and water filtration systems to the good people of Flint, Michigan, in their community’s ongoing clean water crisis. No child should be saddled with such responsibility, yet she’s taken on the fight anyway. (Shame on power for a) creating this crisis and b) not fixing it immediately. Everyone deserves clean water.) Copeny has many projects serving her community, including Operation Snack to provide food to local kids.
  • The Hind Rajab Foundation. The Hind Rajab Foundation is devoted to ending Israeli impunity and achieving justice for Hind Rajab and all the victims of the Gaza Genocide… Our core mission is to actively pursue legal action against those responsible for these atrocities, including perpetrators, accomplices, and inciters of violence against Palestinians. Through offensive litigation, we aim to hold these actors accountable in both international and national courts, challenging the culture of impunity that has allowed such crimes to persist.
  • Tiny Chef of The Tiny Chef Show, which was unceremoniously and wrongly cancelled (shame on you Nickelodeon and your corporate mergers!! Cmon!), but can live on with our support
view of the starry sky in Marquette Michigan from camp. deep navy sky with twinkling stars visible to the naked eye, tree leaves washed in fiery orange from the firelight

Thank you all

Thank you readers and subscribers (!!!), for spending your time and attention here. Without you, my writing would be incomplete.

I pray ease and joy and love find you each day, along with whimsy and wonder.

Stay wavy. Love,

Kate

p.s. I have not used affiliate links in this piece.

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poetry, station notes

STATION NOTE: Clearing

Photo by Sedanur Kunuk on Pexels.com

Hiya folks and Happy Winter Solstice!

I am humbled and thankful to report that my poem “Clearing” has been curated by the fabulous, fun, and superhot poets and folks of Poetry Trapper Keeper!

Thank you to Kelly Mullins and Larissa Fantini for all of your support and love!

Thank you readers. I hope you enjoy your time with my poetry.

Love always,
Kate

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diaric, poetry

‘24 I’m on FIRE: diaries

Photo by Josh Harrison on Unsplash
I. 
When I am beyond vengeance.
A shine well-earned;
back on my
Head-in-the-clouds dancing 
tongue, pen, and all;

Studying the greats like
Sade, Whitney, 
All Hail Queens 
Memphis & Texas & Princesses Diamond & Swamp
the old-school Gemini, reincarnated

When I learned some
carpentry, I have a gift
chopping wood and carrying water
my hearth is hot
I mop with hot salt and peppermint

It’s better this way. All the waxing
into balms now, all the stingers hot 
honey in a cute little squeezy bear,
jars on jars, jars and jars.
O, How I’ve made comb.

When I am the cavalry.


II.
You make me hunger, study
devotion, sing my heart out 
royally, Like Whitney or Mariah or Sade
thread the needle livewire—admiring Doechii
never reaching, only receiving

[nothing like your ex,
the company that sells
wooden hips where rhythm
goes to die,
a grift if I ever saw one
naked, unfathomable
mediocrity, protected class,
a fright.

Did it scare you?, my
Verse lover, my
dancing lightning bolt,
when she penned you down?
Some cheap lore for the store
What a bore. Like all that fame.

She bore the scent
of rank reputation, 
the false reds, she claims the masters, but] 

You can’t buy rhythm.

When your famously big
hands belong on my hips
again. I walked with you once,
It only takes one dream
To create eternity
not reaching, receiving
sharing our Lover's Cup

When I'll meet you
in the kitchen, sugar.



III.
when the assassin (decoy?) 
is a cutiepie
when of *course* he's Italian
folks love when we plug
corruption. If the Mafia were
smart, they would rebrand
There's more where that came from,
the scourge of boardrooms everywhere...

When, come to find out, 
We have the same birthday
mirrored years, must be cousins somewhere
of course we are, our understanding likewise

Let them think we cannot
walk in silence, caro fratello
     Possa la tua schiena essere guarita
     Per abbinare il tuo passo ardente
     Lasciateli credere
     che la violenza non è la risposta
     quando La Violenza è La Risposta.
     ci amano
     perché capiamo
Silence is useful, 
Those who fear silence, let them
Let them fear solitude
Let them forgo 
the walk alone through the woods. 
Let yourself be
Loved. Shine.



IV. 
When you step into ferocity
candles and party, Chameleon 
when I pop out.
Cocoontime over.

Are you mad?!
Darling, have some tea
While I loose this truth
enthroned in my bare breast

Now, eager student, 
eagle-eyed 
What have we learned?

In spite of everything to the contrary,
There are a lotta smart people out there.
Are you mad?!
I remain inspired.


V. 
I deserve this.

I am a fiery vision
Autocorrect: furry
haha. Velvet, sure.

Quantum leaps. Get used to
being seen. 
Can’t keep their eyes off you.

When the dream is 
no longer a figment.
When I passed the test.

Congratulations! You’re a 
MASSIVE THREAT.
When I haven’t even peaked yet.

Override your nice
for your intuition.

When I kiss you
unknown, my future encounter
I release you, then you arrive
And the radio says, Let’s dance.
You say, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.

when the hogwash is hogtied 
sewn up in this world,
a fiery brick.

When I don’t know what you’re still complaining about, but,
Be thankful, said Katt. 
Be thankful for the haters, 
a string of polo ponies;
Let them do their job.
When you work for me, honey,
cords cut regardless.
When you haven’t walked alone,
and it shows. 
Do yourself a favor.

When this year stripped me bare.
I am raw, thank you.
Sacrificing my wounds for something greater, thank you.
Triggers and sparks both 
medicine, thank you.
When I am shameless.
Thank you.

When life alone
is an invitation to dream
Big. Sprezzatura, moltomoltomoltomolto
Grazie, and a drink. and a cookie. 

When it’s a turning point.

Are they really about to…?
When timing is sexual
tension between me and reality.
Get thee to the riverbed,
you wildfire.

When you can just ask 
the snakes in my hair 
when I am ready to be perceived. 
When I cannot even fathom 
all the unkind things people do,
Thank you.

Sitting pretty, entertaining
my shadows. 

Bulls-eye.

jukebox

when KENDRICK DROPPED & Doechii’s Tiny Desk & the Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes:

out of the past [diary archive]

what these nets drug in, 2018 and counting:

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diaric, poetry

’24 The Pluto Chronicles

Photo by Gleb Lucky

all this energy harvesting.

This poem died several times on its way to you. So here we are, gathered here today, on this day of kayfabe, pyro, and hogwash:

Version I

’24 Dedication: long game

When it’s still waters run deep
Happy Birthday, Baby. Hot
chocolate and Chicago hot dogs
under the cheese moon
my driving makes you swoon

… rather, green-gilled. Sorry, 
Baby, roll down the window
A rank sulphur, I won’t hold it
against you, my little pooh-bear.

At the game, all the adoring fans 
armed with the livestream 
camera glued, a homemade poster
says ‘i love you, Please gimme
your puck.’
This gal ran all the way
from Vancouver, as
The Proclaimers sangeth.
She trembled with it
back to her seat, 
before the drop
and I could not understand 
why tremble so before any man?

Yeah, I voted.
Who do I vote for 
to end this genocide?

When one of my least favorite
words is shareholder-I spit-
Dusty Rhodes warned us
about management-their gifts
after all these years of hard work
a cheap watch and a laughing
kick in the ass.

Version II

’24 cesspool

Acting so nice
before the circular firing squad
Crickets
and leopards eating your faces.

When we’re locked in, alright.

Yap-Yap-Yap!!!
all you ever do-
HUSH! 

When being popular is so 
passé.

Oh please, there’s always speed
laying around in this country

When it got so dreadful,
I threw on some Hank Williams to brighten the mood.

Everybody’s reaching for their cigarettes again.

When the house is burning down,
have sex in it.

[when it’s politicians and proxies,
I am also petty-You venal, hateful
rodent-faced • old bat • bigot • bagman • motherfuck-]

When they remembered the fall
of Gondolin, then rocked and smoked
by the hearth, singing merry

Goddamn, I love ya.

When she told me,
Mama, we all have hearts.

. . . Why are you telling me this?
.
.
.
. . . I need to get out of here.

Version III

’24 Dedication: The long game (redux)

When I grew to understand 
the Menendez Brothers
a little better than before.
When I have seen 
just how families eat 
their young
at the drop of a hat.

suspicious, are you?
What am I up to?
why is she so quiet 
all of a sudden?

When I am bleeding, too,
and that which must stanche
invades instead; banal cancer.
I'd cut it from the fabric
out like a cigarette burn
leaving scorch to mark your passing—

When all I needed was a walk.
When she asked, Mommy? 
Do we have everything we need?

Yes, darling.
When I die, I know
it isn't over. I must
rest here a moment,

Before I pick up my quiver
wands, arrows
I look Death in the eye.

why is the grass so green
when it's gallowstime?

When I'm On FIRE.

jukebox

on repeat • repeat • repeat:

  • MEGAN ACT II
    • “Bigger in Texas” I mean, the rest of the album is spectacular, but this serpent has me in a choke.
  • GLORIOUS
    • “I LUV HER” T-Painnnnn. “I don’t wanna keep it on the low, I luv her. … Got damn I luv her.”
  • reactor compilation videos of Certified Boogeyman’s “Like That” > “euphoria” > “6:16 in LA” > “Meet the Grahams” > the three iterations of “Not Like Us” > “Watch The Party Die”

I started buying CDs again. No commercials, endless repeats and skips. I can yearn and delve passionately. I can hold the jewel case in my hands, I can admire the artistry up close.

Some more albums I’ve been loving of late:

  • A Love So Beautiful: Roy Orbison & The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
    • I got this one on vinyl; long been on my list and when I found it at Val’s Halla (Thanks, Val!), I felt that thrill of meant-to-be.
    • I love how the music fills the house like a hearth. I love feeling it in my chest.
  • Born in the U.S.A.
    • Just listened to this the first time all the way through. An inherited album, I didn’t realize “Dancing in the Dark” (my original favorite Springsteen song) was on there!
    • “Cover Me”
    • “I’m On Fire”
    • “I’m Goin Down”
  • Toucan Do It Too!, The Amazing Rhythm Aces

out of the past [diary archive]

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poetry, station notes

station note: a man of winter & tricky honey

Photo: Roberta Sorge

Hiya folks,

I am humbled and honored to report that Boudin, the spicy online cousin to The McNeese Review, curated two of my poems—“a man of winter” and “tricky honey”—in their “Imagine: Summer II” issue. This is a dream come true. I love writing and I love sharing that with you. Thank you.

Thank you to Editor Vallie Lynn Watson and Managing Editor Abbie Skinner for considering and curating my poetry, and for putting this issue together.

Thank you readers. Without you, these poems would be incomplete. I hope you enjoy your time with them. I encourage you to pore over the pages of this and past issues of Boudin‘s riveting delights.

Love,
Kate

P.S. – yes, the monthly diary cycle has been on an impromptu hiatus… from publishing, that is. I am still writing and may have a surprise or two up my sleeve… Stay Tuned, love.

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poetry, station notes

Station note: my pretty redwood

Photo by Explore with Joshua on Unsplash

hello darlings—
My poem “my pretty redwood” now lives at Rat’s Ass Review’s Spring/Summer 2024 issue. It is an honor to be included in this collection of beautiful poetry and in this eccentric electric delightful poetry journal. I am grateful my poem has its new home. Thank you to Editor Roderick Bates. As ever, I hope you enjoy reading.

I love you,
Kate

jukebox:

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poetry, station notes

Station note: Fire on the Mountain

Hunter’s Affects no. 1: Winter Tour 2024 | EiC Alannah Guevara; cover by Tom Stockman

Hello darlings—

I am honored that two of my poems, “The Enemies’ Disease” and “everything i do is beautiful”, have been published in Hunter’s Affects no. 1: Winter Tour 2024. (be sure to check out the soundtrack, too!) Thank you to Editor-in-Chief/One-Woman Band Alannah Guevara for everything. It’s a delight to be included, I hope you all enjoy reading. 

💕

love is real 

💕

Love, 
Kate

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poetry, station notes

Station note: remember how you had me

Hi folks! With gratitude, I’m happy to report that my poem “remember how you had me” found a home in manywor(l)d‘s Issue 2. It was an honor and a delight working with the editors, I thank them from the bottom of my heart for this opportunity; I hope you all enjoy reading this issue (and Issue 1), it’s chock full of wow and wonders.

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