Stupid Poetry Returns! And Unfortunately So Does Fascism, Over and Over and Over Again
Hello, everybody! I'm a month late, but happy 2026! It's been a hell of a year so far, and I hope you've all been holding up alright, all things considered.
"All things," of course, meaning the racist fascists killing people in the streets, and the cabal of pedophiles who have enabled them to do so. I am a bit late in collecting my full, coherent thoughts about it all. I had committed to taking January off from writing for the sake of avoiding burnout and not going insane, two tasks that became increasingly difficult as we watched these losers abuse the first bit of power they have ever felt in their miserable incel lives. Renee Good and Alex Pretti should be alive today, but instead these antisocial chuds had to make it everyone else's problem that they got rejected that they got rejected when they asked a barista to a date at Buffalo Wild Wings, or lost a Call of Duty tournament at GameStop to a guy from Mexico or someone with blue hair or whatever.
It goes without saying, but immigrants aren't the problem in this country. They aren't now, and they never have been despite the last 30 years of demonization by both major American political parties. It's a lie the elites sell you to make you mad at the most vulnerable around you, because if you are a coward and you want to go after vulnerable populations, there is a chance you will get what you want. Billionaires and the politicians that serve them want you to want your foreign-born neighbors deported, because they can usually find a way to do that. They can ruin people's lives to appease you. And then they can ruin yours just because they want to. And millions of freaks fall hook, line, and sinker for it.
It is hard to not just be in utter disgust all of the time. That what's happened in the last month, in the last year, in the last 10, etc., can be received with anything other than disgust by anyone around me, is all the more disgusting. And when you consider how so much of this violence and dysfunction and destruction and willful enforcement of human suffering had been in one way or another devised by pedophiles trying to keep their depravity under wraps, it is unspeakably grim. Donald Trump appears in the Epstein files 38,000 times. The bulk of my disgust is reserved for him, the perverts and racists around him, and every other monster whose power enables this all. His voters and supporters are also his victims in most cases, of course. But they fucked up. It is crazy-making to see people buying snake oil from an extremely credibly alleged pedophile because it gives them permission to blame their problems on someone else. It is pathetic. It is weak-willed and cowardly. And I do really believe there will come a day where the weight of their moral rot takes a toll that they can't handle anymore. Hope they figure something out before then.
On the other end of the spectrum though, I am so inspired by the people of Minneapolis, of Chicago, of Portland, of D.C., L.A., etc, etc. I see people caring for their families and friends and neighbors in ways they should never have had to. People across the country establishing networks of care and mutual aid, putting their bodies on the line to protect the vulnerable among us. The losers and dipshits trying to wield their power will never be able to do so meaningfully. Because, sure, it might still be power, but power is empty and fleeting when there is no humanity at its core. Power is what you can do for who you love. There's power in numbers, in community. There is power in connection and singing and chanting and laughing and creating memories with people you care about, friends and strangers alike. There is power in knowing you can rely on the kindness of your neighbors. There isn't any real power in teargassing children. There isn't any power in ruling with force and fear. There isn't power in letting your discontentment with yourself become bruises and bullet holes in other people's bodies. There is no power in a nihilist nationalist dork's racist power fantasy.
I am going to end with a little suite of poems I have written in the past month (I know I said I was taking January off but actually I did write a poem every day). But before I do that, I want to give just a little heads up on 2026's plans for the newsletter. I am working on a couple pretty large, involved creative projects that you will hopefully learn more about soon-ish. So for the sake of conserving energy for those, this newsletter is not going to be strictly weekly. My low benchmark is at least biweekly, and I am also going to be trying some new formats, and maybe doing some special more long-form posts, digital zines, etc. I am going to try to stay somewhat consistent in my posting, and I will probably get a more tangible feel for a routine after I figure out what works with the other stuff I'm working on. But don't worry, you'll still be getting my weird lil' poems all year.
Abolish ICE 1
no, the exploding trees don’t really explode, per se, the sap freezes, like the blood on the pavement, and it grows, like theblood on the pavement, and as the ice expands the coldness makes itself heard, makes itself harder than the bark, than the hearts carved on its side. you hear a loud “bang” and see the chasm grow in the tree’s wilting trunk. you hear a loud “bang” and you shield your neighbor from the falling branches. the wood finds the rot under its frost and mourns itself. january sun burns its own reflection in the high rises. it freezes itself in the lakes frozen surface, and the wind chill carries too many last breaths. there is so much to do with the sticks, the stones, now at our feet.
Abolish ICE 2
when i was 8 years old i watched
stones turn themselves over
by the force of the mississippi waves
and i considered how i’d protect
myself if the water and the limestone across the shore
worked together if the force of the crashing
algae shot the rocks right at my face, i was so used
to hiding in the brush but the mayflies found me
there, i swallowed a swarm of them and cautioned
back out to face the water, i couldn’t trust,
i couldn’t believe it was me and i was it
but i’ve watched it flow from the boundary waters
i’ve watched it pump through the heart of
minneapolis ive traced my life under the same water’s
frozen surface until i became its phantom until my body eroded
and the trust i once gave the air was left behind it became
the sediment, the riverbed i’ve seen become homes.
i’ve watched new orleans hold the warmth
sent in the suns’ muddy reflection and
it sends us back our love, its water lilies before they’re
discarded with the duckweed. i’ve been conditioned to hold
my hands in front of my face to deflect the stones
carved out of my home but i’ve come to know
that the tides are delivering me to every aorta
they flood. the waters turn every pebble on the shore and
each one whispers a name. this was all always ours.
the river never asked us to fear its fists.
it asked us to clench our own.
Abolish ICE 3
where there is smoke there is fire
where there is tear gas there is tears
and rage in veins like roman candles
i watched the sky explode every
4th of july and i didn’t see the way
the fireworks became torches
reflecting off the eyes of the friends
who’d now want me dead. i saw
the fireflies, I held them and still didn’t
understand they were the show
where there’s tasers and batons
there’s stars flashing against
your skull and there are the stars
you’ve held in your hands and
the constellations they’ve burned into
your skin, i don’t know how to forget the warmth
i’ve shared i don’t know where i
am supposed to store my forgiveness
where there’s smoke there’s fire
but every night i light incense sticks
and let that smoke rise through my nose
i never burn. i hold a scratched up bic the same color you always said was bad luck
when we hid skunks with frankincense
cones from the record store and when I remember
all the smells I needed to conceal just to
respect myself just to hide myself my dirt and my shame. I remember
the smallness I felt and I remember what it means to keep others from feeling it.
I hold a flashbang against my tongue
and grip my chest. I remember every
dead end every path burned anyway
I remember what it is be sun, to be sunflower
and so when the bombs rain in the fields
the roots will still grow. when the bombs rain in the field, the fireflies will outlast them.
