Justice Poetic May 2020 Newsletter

Poetry in a Pandemic, Fam

May 2020 Justice Poetic Newsletter 

Hey Fam! 

Hey! How are you? What day is it? Oh, it’s Friday! Right. Friday it is. And it is May! May, 2020. Surreal, right? 

It has come to my attention that the idea of a weekly anything in a pandemic is what some might call a delusion of grandeur. I want to do it. I want to keep in touch. I want to share my poetry. I want to do something more with my poetry. But each and every day I wake up and suddenly it is time for bed. The days fly by. And things feel very strange. No, not because I am staying in. I have always stayed in. I love staying in. I love my home. My tiny little two bedroom apartment in the low-income part of town. It is cozy and full of my most cherished people, spaces, and things. 

And yet, this week I wrote about some of those special things - books, and how reading is something that is a bit of a challenge. And not just for me, but for so many. Anxiety in a pandemic is a normal response, so, hooray! We did it! And being able to watch hours of TV or play hours of Roblox or scroll through hours of Facebook posts just does not take the same mental space as settling in, focusing, and hoping to enjoy a good book. 

Reading in a Pandemic 

This month, oh because right now we are going to be at months fam. A little note a month. I think that sounds fair and accurate. And I think that sounds realistic. I can share my work with you and check in and maybe do something big in a month. Big as in finally make a video of me reading a poem. For me that is huge, yes? So maybe soon. Though each day I wake up and I barely give it a thought. I have an idea of what I want to wear, where I want to sit, but then I think of reading and speaking and just have to binge watch a few more Simpson’s episodes. 

I know so many of you are in the same boat. Or a similar boat. Some of you have yards though, so cherish those yards. I have been wanting a yard  - for games and picnics and for being outside. We have a little balcony where our birds, named Margaret and Jonathan by my daughter, come to eat birdseed and hang out. But it is not as green and restful as a yard and we cannot throw a ball or do whatever people with yards do. We do like to blow bubbles and watch them float up towards the sky or down towards the earth, depending. Here is a picture of Margaret and Jonathan, enjoy: 

This month I have had a few poetry successes in terms of good feedback, good turnout, if you will, for some of my poems. Pandemic poems and non-pandemic poems alike. But I have to make some sort of literary argument or hypothesis right now - from here on out, it is all pandemic poetry even if it is not a direct hit on issues of the pandemic. 

We are in something that has this capacity for changing us and changing how we see things and changing the structures of our days and lives, and shaping our words, visions, fantasies, and observations in a meaningful and drastic way. I mean, the way I look or think about flowers right now is different from the way I looked or thought about flowers last May, that’s for sure. Or rocks or sky or clouds or people or places or things. It is a shift. And perhaps it is one that was needed. But perhaps not like this. Not through this. However, of course, climate change was and is always going to be something like this, right? Something major and jarring and something that came in and threw our little day-to-day world into different. 

So, this month I am pretty into these few poems - 

I liked writing this little talk between Emily’s poems and my own, because I do that sometimes. I talk with her and Sylvia a bit too often. In a good way. In a muse way. In a how did you do this way. 

Hope is a Lead Pipe 

Next because someone was so kind and asked me about my writing process, and assumed really smart things, well I thought I would answer them in a poem - 

Writing Process 

Next, well my best friend and I live miles apart. She is in Milwaukee, I am here in Nevada. And this poem was born from a text conversation about dystopia. 

Dystopia is not going to be easy on me 

And then this one, for my daughter - I love her. 

Vanilla Girls 

Here’s how to find me - I have some books: 

Love in the Time of Climate Change


You can visit me at my medium profile, please join medium, your membership supports creatives with claps and reads and shares and tweets, okay? My poetry can be found mostly on my own little poetry publication on medium, Justice Poetic.

You can also support me with some direct funds which will go towards either: red wine, dark coffee, lawyers fees, fairy tale books, the oh no my teaching job ended and it is summer break fund or my internet window shopping search for the perfect maxi dress foundation, via my patreon page

You can sign up for my newsletter (oh look, you have!) or find me on Facebook and even Twitter, sometimes. I reply to messages but not as often as I should or wish that I could. 

And thank you for any of it, and all of it. 

What shall we write now? What shall we write this month? I know most of my supporters are also writers, or creatives in other ways, because my entire life I have been surrounded by creatives, and writers. I have never felt like one - oddly enough! Because my creations were so small and quiet, little poems sitting in books. But the spirit of creativity and creation is what we do when we write, draw, paint, grow things in a garden, make music, make videos or animation, and on and on and on. It is of vital importance to our well being and to this new world that we all nurture and love our creativity and support the best of it in others. 

Talk to you in a month. 

Take care, stay healthy - 



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