B.K. Poetry

Hey there! I'm Kenny.

I believe every voice deserves to be heard—especially the ones that have been overlooked. As the founder of Write Club, I work with emerging writers to find their truth and power through storytelling.

Working on something and need a writing buddy?

Let's chat over decaf ☕

Just a quick hello.

Hey there. My name is Brennan (he/they) I’m a Queer 30-year-old Métis poet and author and this is my dedicated writing blog.

  • ✏️ Writers: I’m starting a low-cost online writing class called Fireweed Writing School, the pilot cohort will be in Summer 2026. Join the waitlist! (and message me, since people from Tumblr will get an exclusive discount.)
  • ⛰️ Looking for a clean, writer-focused Tumblr theme? Check out Foothills! A minimal, accessible theme I built specifically for poets and writers. It’s free and open-source.
  • 📚 I have published 8 books independently, including poetry collections, creative non-fiction, and academic work, available on Amazon and as digital downloads on Gumroad (ePubs & PDFs).
  • 🍓 I’m co-founder and lead developer at Berry House, a values-driven web studio building fast, accessible JAMstack websites and thoughtful content for independent creators and mission-led organizations.
  • If you’d like to donate, click here.

If you’re a writer, like this post or send me a message and I’ll be sure to follow you! And if you wanna get to know a little more about me, feel free to keep reading after the cut. 💖

Keep reading

Basement Psalm

The floor is metal & cold but
you are not the floor.
Yr the heat rising from the chest,
yr light coming in anyway,

prairie morning. pale & stubborn.
He told me the sunrise was pink
he thought it was beautiful
before he remembered to be afraid.

Yr still beautiful, two bodies,
Charon & Pluto, twin satellites,
on a basement floor
holding hands w/o water.

Silo outside casts a shadow
you measured with yr eyes.
Blotted cows call across the field
the long, slow breath before morning.

Carry his story in yr teeth
a wolf carrying her young.
Carry him a little further.
The glass windows are
still breakable. The life of
the world to come outside.

I am only a voice,
but I am yr voice too.
I will not stop speaking
until you see the sky