Entanglement Through Isolation: Notes on Rewilding at Poetry Camp
Upon my arrival at The Outlier Inn for Poetry Camp, I was welcomed by a few things that would remain constant throughout my five days: a joyous greeting from Tova Greene, a hot-wet-stickiness that attached my bangs to my forehead, and some adorable sheep and alpacas. Often feeling more at home when amongst the nonhuman, I decided to set up camp right next to the animal enclosure. This was an unusual choice, as most of the other campers had chosen to pop up their tents in more convenient spots (actually near bathrooms, actually in the shade, actually near other people… spots like that), but I thought… I’d rather be alone. See, I knew to isolate myself. If I isolated myself by choice, I wouldn’t have to risk rejection from the other campers; the other campers who all knew each other and liked each other already, the other campers who would find me weird.
But with every hour that passed by at Poetry Camp, I was able to find more and more things to say. I found more and more people to connect to, and people who connected to me, every day. Where I had initially feared I’d find cliquey exclusion and pretentiousness, I discovered genuine curiosity and openness.
We wrote. We read. We laughed. We hammocked. Bugs ate us. We ate lentils and cabbage. Together.
The lake was big and the pond was small, and all the water from the taps was potable! I learned, I fell and bruised my knee, I made new friends, and, at random moments… whenever I felt like it… I could go back to my little spot, say “hello” to the sheep, and spend time alone. Though, instead of fleeing to my space as a way to escape awkward social interactions, my times alone at camp were moments of of reflection and contemplation. Towards the end of camp, I spoke to many of my new poetic connections about the fears I had held initially. To my surprise (but, I really shouldn’t have been surprised… we’re poets), almost everyone had experienced similar emotions when they first arrived. People expressed to me the anxieties they had felt despite their excitement. We all seemed so relieved that, interspersed with the constant writing and learning and listening, there were times to isolate, to separate, to swing in a tree or swim in the pond, to reflect without shame or a fear of missing out, because that’s what the wild is for. We were there to rewild.
The theme of this year’s Poetry Camp was “Rewilding”. As the PSNY interns wrote in their fantabulous anthology On Entanglement - A Rewilding Anthology, “rewilding is about how we are choosing to live in a time consumed by the storm of violence and dystopia that have insidiously rendered land, language, and imagination infertile. Rewilding is return, despite. When a poem rewilds, it pushes against its limits; despite disaster, it warms and fills readers with hope. It’s not just writing about the world or the land but writing out our own humanity as part of the land.”
At Poetry Camp, we entangled our minds through poetry and sharing, we entangled our words through collaboration and acceptance, and we entangled with the land. Oh, we entangled with the land. We developed and flourished. We were little sprouts in different fields, hugging at the roots. Little pieces of pollen, grass, and tree bark finally back home, greeting each other on the breeze along the way.
Thank you to the effervescent multitasking extraordinaire that is Tova for putting everything together. Thank you to Fi, Emi, Erika, Sarah, Bero, Dylan, Venus, and Meredith for curating the words and strategies that sparked creative generation (and for tirelessly cooking and chopping and cooking and stirring and cooking and driving and… and…). Thank you to Jackie Braje, Stephanie Berger, and Chen Chen for your headliner seminars and readings that were so steeped in inspiration, humor, and authenticity. Thank you to Josh for providing the nature! Thank you to my 50+ fellow PoCampers for being so passionately yourselves and so deeply kind. I love poets.
Annabelle Roses (she/her) is a poet from Maplewood, New Jersey. Her work explores the beauty of grief, the deliciousness of decay, and the inevitability of growth. She holds a BA in Creative Writing and Drama from The University of Salford in Manchester, England, is a member of the Brooklyn Women’s Writing Group, and has been part of PSNY since 2025. Annabelle writes a Substack entitled “On That Note…”. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in By The WAYE and elsewhere. She posts her drafts and writing updates on Instagram @writing.on.roses.
