Welcome to The Donkey Drop

A secret monthly delivery for weirdos, dreamers, and anyone who still checks the mailbox like it matters.

This is not a newsletter.

This is a covert delivery.

Once a month, a suspiciously adorable envelope will appear at your door.
Inside: An original, frame-worthy print. Weird poetry. Secret challenges. Goofy games.

You've been recruited.

Sneak peek inside The Donkey Drop:
(No sound. Just vibes.)

What you get (besides extreme delight):

An original art print.

This isn’t a stock photo, a Canva template, or something you’ll scroll past on Instagram. This is a fresh, frame-worthy blast of watercolor weirdness - ripped straight out of my studio and dropped into your mailbox like contraband. One side: pure art, big enough to pin, hoard, or shrine-ify. The other side: whatever secrets leaked out of my brain that month. It might be elegant. It might be ridiculous. It will definitely be yours.

An exclusive poem.

You get a poem no one else can read for six months. Not on TikTok. Not in a book. Just you and the words, before anyone else even knows they exist.

A real-time writing lesson.

This isn't a polished tutorial or prewritten lecture. You're getting an over-the-shoulder pass into the exact moment I write each poem - awkward pauses, dumb rhymes, false starts, breakthroughs, and all. You'll hear me wonder what to write, wrestle with bad lines, try weird formats, and explain every twist as it happens. It's unscripted, unpredictable, and wildly useful. Burritos ask me all the time, "How do you come up with this stuff?" This is how. Each lesson lasts as long as it takes me to finish the poem (usually about an hour), and by the end, you'll understand every choice I made - because you were there for all of them. It's part writing session, part masterclass, part chaos log.

What are the writing lessons like? Well… in this sample, I was writing a poem, made a fart joke, and then laughed at it for way too long. Along the way, I also talk about poem styles, how to get unstuck, and what to do when you don't know what to write. But also: fart jokes.

Studio-seat painting demos.

You'll watch the exact moment the paint hits the page. These aren't silent speedpaints - they're full, real-time recordings of each illustration as it's born. You'll see what goes down first. What gets covered. What gets redone three times because I hated it. You'll learn how watercolor decisions get made on the fly - without a script, without a plan, and sometimes without a clue.

In the painting sessions, I discuss my love for specific colors, why you should always have a paper towel, and say, "Oooo! Look at that!" a lot.

Performance video readings.

Once the poem is born and the paint is dry, I'll read the poems aloud as the final artwork blooms behind the words. It's poetry with just the right amount of dramatic flair.

Blooming art: Check! Poetry: Check! Dramatic flair: Check!

Bonus weirdness, always.

Failed sketches. Doodle margins. Handwritten secrets. QR-coded missions. A secret, hidden something. Probably stickers. Definitely mischief. Each issue has its own personality—and it's never boring.

Sample page from zine
Actual insert from a recent Donkey Drop. Yes, you get secret missions. Yes, you're allowed to crack the code.

Why this is more than a zine

This isn't content.

This is a pocket-sized portal into a parallel world I built by hand, just for you.

You're not paying for a PDF.

You're paying for the joy of cracking open an envelope and discovering that someone out there made something just to delight you. You're paying to be surprised. To be let in. To be reminded that magic doesn't have to be big to be real.

The poems, videos, art, jokes, puzzles, games, challenges, and secret missions - all folded into a little book of cuteness and Donkey Dropped at your door.

Get Your Donkey Drops

Monthly Donkey Drop Delivery

$7/month

You'll get the full printed drop: folded, sealed, and mailed to your lair. It's old-school, hands-on, and hoardable. Every issue is frame-worthy and fridge-proud.

Get The Drop
Poison Pickle poem and illustration from zine
From the archives: "Poison Pickle" — a fan favorite. (Please don't lick the screen.)

Who it's for:

Why it exists:

Every Month You'll Get:

Frequently Asked Weirdness

Is this for kids only? Or is it appropriate for kids?

It's not just for kids. It's for weirdos.

There's no swearing, no adult content, and zero risk of stumbling into something that makes you have "the talk."

If your kid likes clever poems, secret missions, and pickle-based danger? They're gonna love it.

If you like art, absurdity, and feeling like a mailbox pirate who just intercepted forbidden treasure? Also yes.

It's safe for kids, but not designed for kids. It's made for people who like weird things done well.

So… I have to give you my address?

Yes, BUT!

I'm not going to use it to send you coupon flyers, political opinions, or cursed objects. Just the zine. That's it.

Can I gift the weirdness?

Oh, absolutely.

If you know someone who would lose their mind over a secret envelope of illustrated poetry, strange assignments, and art chaos—send it their way.

Will you use my name in a poem?

If you have a crazy, rhyming name - then maybe. But I would never use your full name without your permission.

But if you tag me in something brilliant, say something weird in an email, or generally exist as a walking inspiration machine—I reserve the right to turn it into a line.

Every issue has a different flavor, and sometimes that flavor is "chaotic tribute."

How long do I have to sign up?

Each month's issue is a limited drop.

When it's gone, it's gone. If you want this month's poems, sign up before time runs out.

When do you mail them?

I'll ship your zines to you on the 15th of every month. And since I have to fold each one with love, you have to sign up before the 10th to ensure you get that month's Drop.

Why no digital version?

Because this isn't a PDF.

It's a spell.

And spells don't hit the same when they come as an email attachment.

The Donkey Drop is meant to be held, opened, lovingly dog-eared, and stashed in a shoebox for later.

If I could hand it to you via a ceremony and a live orchestra, I would.

But for now, the mailbox will do.

Can I cancel anytime?

Yep. No weird contracts. No passive-aggressive guilt. Just hit cancel whenever you're ready.

But fair warning: people tend to stay. Mailbox magic is addictive.

The Drop is happening.

This month's poem is already in the works.

Sign up now to reserve your issue before it vanishes into the ether.

Your mailbox will never recover.