looking up
poems and entries and accomplishments from May
as i finish up this post, i want you (my readers and my self doubt) to know that i have submitted 5 poems to poetry contests and have compiled list of deadlines for manuscript contests, artist residencies, and other poetry contests that i intend to submit to as well. i am proud of myself for following through and pushing myself closer to the life i want.
may 27, 2026 — morning pages 191
i feel a greater sense of confidence and what i want than i ever have before. i am experiencing a great wave of self-knowing. i love my body more than i ever have. i will be okay. i am heading toward greatness. i am dedicated to my success. i will continue to listen and write when inspiration strikes. i will follow through on my plans to submit poems and manuscripts and applications for retreats. i believe in myself. i don’t need anyone but me, my friends, and the people that love me. great things are coming my way.
continue building your confidence, Ev.
— - ——— — —— —— - ——— — ——
what elicits the utterance
home, sweet home?
may 23, 2026 — morning pages 190
i am on the couch with Beans on my left knee, my other leg outstretched , and Howl just laid himself on the middle cushion on the back of the couch. which is precisely where i’d put my journal down to write. now i’m propping it up in the crook of my elbow with my neck crooked to the left, chin on my shoulder. i’m lucky to have them both here. i’m happy.
may 22, 2026 — morning pages 189
i want to smash my phone so bad. it’s a distraction and a bad news delivery service. it keeps me connected to my loved ones and to the rest of the world that is actively being ripped apart. i almost wrote, “falling apart",” but it is not its own doing that causes the disintegration. i’m here in my living room deciding what i’ll do today— submit poetry, clean the stovetop, weed the garden.
Ahmed Sarsour, a Palestinian and Sudanese poet living in Gaza, asks me how I'm doing; what i’m working on. he tells me he’s been depressed lately. i think of my poetry capturing the beauty of the world, of living; listing reasons to stay alive. i think of Ahmed’s poetry: his first-hand accounts of the atrocities taking place, demanding his audience listen to him; listing the ways israel attempts to eliminate life and how the u.s. facilitates that.
i wish Ahmed could write poetry like mine. i wish he could write about how much he loves the sun and the sky, about flowers and gardening and love. but even if those things are true, he must write about what keeps him from those topics— bombardment, starvation, the flagrant lies from the u.s. government.
i want to smash my phone but i have to talk to Ahmed. he needs to know that people are listening to him and that they care about him and his family and friends. as much as i hate “bad news,” i must bear witness to what is taking place so that I know what to stand and move against. i want to show Ahmed that somebody cares that he’s still alive and trying to help his loved ones. at least my phone can help me do that. it remains un-smashed, for now.
[i had the honor of attending a live reading of Ahmed’s work at my local film lab recently and was moved to tears listening and reading along to his words. it is so important to remember that the people of Palestinian are more than just people whose suffering is broadcast across the internet. they are poets and siblings and parents and dreamers. they want to do more than just survive. they want to live.
apart from writing poetry, Ahmed also strives to support family and friends struggling in Gaza. if you’re interested in helping him to do so, you can check out Project Sarsour. you can also find him on instagram at ahmed.hsarsour.]
