Rikki (@starmothpress) Bsky

left behind: a poem not just debris from the storm fallen twigs and forgotten string small dwelling for growing found the ground from its sky-kissed perch oh, to scoop it up to hold this proof to dampen the structure with saltwater tears We are luckily safe after Fridays’ storms but there is damage throughout town. Buy my book

left behind: a poem

not just debris from the storm fallen twigs and forgotten string small dwelling for growing found the ground from its sky-kissed perch oh, to scoop it up to hold this proof to dampen the structure with saltwater tears We are luckily safe after Fridays’ storms but there is…

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I burned the little notebook, here are some souvenirs

I burned the little notebook, here are some souvenirs

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Two collages and a haiku opportunistic robin plays bath splashing in puddles of fresh rain

Two collages and a haiku

opportunistic robin plays bath splashing in puddles of fresh rain

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Angst I know you’re upset But here I carved a space In my heart Meet me there We’ll have tea Not too strong So we can still go to bed early We’ll talk about the meaning of Our matching fingerprints You scribble tears on your face With blue crayon They fall, rain from your cheeks Splash into your cup Allow me to drink it for you It’s been long enough You don’t have to do this alone “Wolf turn” Episode five of the podcast Living Practice is live 💕 catch it here or find it on your favorite podcast platform.

Angst

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What remains Bald eagle circles with two vultures tending to death like the carcass of a deer or the decay of a nation

What remains

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promises you could say hi pretty girl and i would look for who you’re speaking to certainly not this rib cage playing the song of hollow bones buried too much flesh bulging fabric too tight all wrong she’ll tell herself i’m all wrong w a i t for words of kindness they do not come until aged hands from older me grasp my tiny fingers whispers triumphantly “you are not all wrong you are everything you are wonderful wonderful”

promises

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water me threads of being curl through every cell of this body arms chest heart opening like a flower crying nectar at the sunrise penetration of light both pleasure and pain

water me

threads of being curl through every cell of this body arms chest heart opening like a flower crying nectar at the sunrise penetration of light both pleasure and pain

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Make your life an altar

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is that word alive AI trained on human souls yet their words taste like pink plastic left in the sun too long I’d like to think I can tell when words don’t have a body like scraping the knee on the playground asphalt…

starmothpress.com/2026/03/27/i...

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where do you see reflections of yourself? Feet pull me out the door And wind runs fingers through my hair It’s familiar: this soft, electric air between the storms Damp earth sinks beneath me I fall into lush moss and vibrant greens alive …

starmothpress.com/2026/04/02/w...

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will you accept this payment tended the garden of this mind brains weren’t extraordinary I cling to the title: gifted press the label onto my shirt hand lingers above my breast delusion the tag tied round my toe in the m…

starmothpress.com/2026/04/03/w...

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will you accept this payment tended the garden of this mind brains weren’t extraordinary I cling to the title: gifted press the label onto my shirt hand lingers above my breast delusion the tag tied round my toe in the morgue it’s all I ever was…until, you know I wasn‘t plummeting grades, marks don’t matter blackout nights, herded by strangers bra stuffed with money and tear-stained fights this body became the sacrifice; payment on the altar of expectation color me surprised you roll your eyes not impressed tell me this is it enough yet?

will you accept this payment

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A recent zine project hosted by the glitch witch. Lots of magic in here. Much gratitude.

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open.substack.com/pub/starmoth...

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where do you see reflections of yourself? Feet pull me out the door And wind runs fingers through my hair It’s familiar: this soft, electric air between the storms Damp earth sinks beneath me I fall into lush moss and vibrant greens alive with rain I see myself here reflected back by tree roots and budding leaves There is family here in heavy water drops and curious bird eyes

where do you see reflections of yourself?

Feet pull me out the door And wind runs fingers through my hair It’s familiar: this soft, electric air between the storms Damp earth sinks beneath me I fall into lush moss and vibrant greens alive with rain I see myself here reflected back by tree roots…

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New this week The Tarot Diaries segment on the four of cups is now live. Swipe through the photos for previews of what I dive into 💚 Read more at Contemplative Creativity Below is my sticker design for Care Mail Club. Sign ups are $11 to receive a sticker, zine and original artwork…and sometimes extra goodies 😜 check it out on my ko-fi. The sticker shone below was from last month’s club mail. it’s available for $3 on ko-fi. The zine I made for The Glitch Witch’s zine quest My book is now available for purchase

New this week

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is that word alive AI trained on human souls yet their words taste like pink plastic left in the sun too long I’d like to think I can tell when words don’t have a body like scraping the knee on the playground asphalt or bumping the funny bone or drinking water underneath scorching sun

is that word alive

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loving gaze Where it began: stilt houses Skeletal remains emerging from algae-green pools Awe blooming at heart level for faded places, forgotten I whisper “thank you for open eyes” now I lovingly see crooked barns crumbling factories boarded-up businesses debris piles left behind wild-torn houses places hold people, hold stories… and now no one is left to tend to these places, they were once a flurry of motion, aliveness, everyday mundanity now no one bothered to even tear them down burn remains memorialize their time here honor what was

loving gaze

Where it began: stilt houses Skeletal remains emerging from algae-green pools Awe blooming at heart level for faded places, forgotten I whisper “thank you for open eyes” now I lovingly see crooked barns crumbling factories boarded-up businesses debris piles left behind wild-torn houses…

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On feeling stuck creatively Creativity begets creativity. If you find yourself “stuck,” find another way to get creative…lower the stakes and have fun. It clears the channel.“Stuck” is the framework because you’re caught in the loop of expectation and pushing. All it does is crowd you with nonsense. Nothing will flow if you don’t keep the channel open. Creative play is basically inspirational housekeeping. My book is now available to purchase

On feeling stuck creatively

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I just did something I’ve never done: wrote and finished a fiction story. I could cry.

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grace in every moment: paying attention as an act of devotion In this work, author Rikki Horvatic shares writing which culminated from walking and paying attention in her ordinary, run-of-the-mill life. What she found was grace waiting to bless her in every mome...

My book is now available for purchase 💕

shop.ingramspark.com/b/084?params...

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early afternoon 12:34 while my daughter screams “I’M SO LUCKY” she found a quarter on the porch I think about rollerblading because I don’t remember ever deciding to stop my son wants to eat a whole pizza for lunch the porch door is open I lay on the couch as that’s what I usually do I’ve bought so many books and courses hoping to learn how to do things placing my trust in anyone’s hands but my own

early afternoon

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