translation

I've been dreaming:
of three mosquitoes 
bouncing on a page

Oh sad, sleepy brain!
Did you just envision
"musketeers" wrong?

-----------------------------

Pic: Dreamy visual courtesy Ziibiwing Center trip with my capstone students. 

Note: Did my brain not want to use "MUSKeteers" because of the Twitter implosion?

as I lay me down to sleep

childhood nightmares never go away

the roaring lions and underground hollows 

the things in corners, cupboards, under beds

I force myself to wait until it is morning 

to call out to my parents--on a phone line 

to hear them tell me everything will be okay

In every country a small goddess runs away

refuses worship, says she wants to be normal 

asking: surely, it's better to take than to just give

I see how she forces herself to still in hollows 

as animals stare, scatter, screech in importance 

I see how she wills her silence, says she'll be okay

----------------------------------------------

Pic: Scout tells me this poem is bunk and sticks out his tongue.

bedtime story

I mean at some point we're going to have to talk about why I'm awake at 2:22 AM, goofing off like a goof... when I know I have an alarm set for 5:30 AM so I can do my green tea and meditation time before the high-schooler wakes up at 6:00 AM for their morning cuddle and breakfast.  

And this is not at all unusual--I've been averaging between 3-6 hours of sleep for years now... and put like that, I'm worried there's going to be some spectacular comeuppance for this. 

In some ways I'm a perfect candidate for fractured sleep because I have family from other continents and time zones--so no matter what the time, I have people on hand to have heart-to-hearts and to text links to hilarious songs like Rowdy Baby (no babies were harmed in the making of this video). 

But also Big A works nights, so we're usually texting and chatting about stuff and keeping in touch and being silly as well. And if he's home, his sleep schedule is messed up by working nights, so I'm hanging out with him then too. And tonight At seems to be up and feeling chatty and is sending me Langston Hughes poems about Lenin and I sent him that clip of Paul Robeson singing to Scottish miners (cross cultural solidarity is my favorite and my boy knows me). 

Anyway, this will all work itself out, or won't. If I'm going to be up all night anyway, I feel like there ought to be a cuddly baby to keep me company at least 😁. 

Pic: The Red Cedar was flooding its banks on our walk yesterday.

as I lay me down to sleep

it's time for me to be embedded 
into the dark

it's time to kneel at night's altar
quieten thoughts

to swallow answers into silence

and survive 

for I'm too wild for sleep to be

anything pure

appearing overnight

I used to climb black trees in my childhood

knowing leaves then as outbound beacons

who taught me places I know only now 

I twisted my braids with longing 

My arms become spears of bewilderment

they branch into wild whitenesses

prickle open rooms of secrets

stake it all so I can see

This morning I reached into another day
to eclipse gravity, light, and language
beloved, who is this wild animal 
with its tiled back turned

mouth around your moments of darkness
whisper to me the place it came from 
why does it watch for you to sleep
creep glances to your chest

[unfinished]

Note: Woke with the image of a beast looking down at something it held in its hands. Unsettling. Had two hikes canceled (snow + wind) and people's moods at home went up and down all day... I'm glad today is done. 

keeping it real

Nu has been watching a show called Arcane (based off of the League of Legends video game) this weekend, and although I've been assiduously working on the chapter due to the editors tomorrow, I must have imbibed a sufficient amount of it. 

I came out of an absolutely horrifying dream this morning in which I was on an escaping spaceship with a ton of children I'd never seen before... and my mom. The children were being taken to a safer place and I was there as some kind of consultant? (Not sure). In any case, I was supposed to be there, but my mom had just stowed away, and I was trying to shield her from the guards. I remember asking her to sit on a bench alongside the children, but she stuck out so she had to sit on the floor and try to be unnoticeable. I was going to pretend to the guards that she was there to take care of the kids, and worrying about saying that out loud, because my mom is quite elitist and would hate that role. And then my irritation with her elitism became this horrible disloyal question: why did I pick my mom and not my kids/dad/spouse? Poor mom!!

In real mom news, she seems to be recovering from her Covid... albeit slowly.

Pic is from this morning's tromp in the woods with L and Nu. I kept wishing the sun would show, but that didn't happen. We did get to see our favorite tree, though. Lots of weekend chores, reading, writing, homework, leftovers for dinner, and tai-chi (from a Mirror teacher) to round out the weekend. 

our mother would hate this poem

I dreamed I was listening to my
parents' fight from decades ago 
when they were fighting always
and always passive-aggressively

my father sounding patient
my mother sounding smart

neither of them listening to each other...
from our room: my sister and I listened,
grading them--not on how right or wrong 
they were, but how not mean they were.

our mother lost our ratings
for our father lost the fights

afterwards, he wouldn't talk to her for days...
every time she happened to be in the room,
he'd be whistling or humming something 
to show how he didn't care and didn't hurt--

like at all--not even a little bit

even we kids didn't buy it

mixed

Had a welcome breakthrough on a work project and managed to meet a proposal deadline one whole day ahead of deadline.

Took a nap. Woke up because of a horrifying moment in a post-apocalyptic-style dream (someone had tumbled down some stairs because I bumped them and when I went to check on them, I was captured and they started pulling on my clothes... also, my dad was supposed to help me keep watch, but he fell asleep and didn't hear me when I was shouting for help).

I'd planned a "Summer Celebration" to celebrate the end of Nu's 8th grade year.... it literally got rained on after we set the picnic table. 

Ah well, watermelon tastes almost as good indoors too. 

simmer

I'm stopped at the traffic light at on my way home and it turns into a wait for the slowest train in the world to pass.

There's a rap on the window and At's face beaming down at me. I unlock the doors, he pops in, I hug him so hard. He takes off his mask; I tell him to keep it on; he's all "but we're vaccinated;" and I'm all "you haven't had the second shot yet." Then he's referencing something about Bill Gates and vaccines--maybe this? 

I begin laughing because it's so random--and as I told him, in a couple of days I'm going to think I dreamt this whole sequence of things.

And I'm laughing because I'm so relieved to see and hold him on yet another day when to be the mother of a brown-skinned man is a day for a slow simmering fear.

Repair

In your lapse--there's only air, 

while I keep walking 

everywhere.

Silence sings here, shame too--

like a mosquito hymn 

in my ear.

Perhaps I'm a savant of fracture

on an enraptured 

exiled page--

perhaps I've siphoned my love

into stories just a little

or too late.

Threnody

Waking in a labyrinth

with the outline of a lie

around us the dark blossoms

clinging like skin 

hidden in sight like the dark

set aside like a dementing task

hurrying to meet our dark 

corners of darkness--passion-

perversion--spill into you and me

returning to the dead lamp

you are furious as a rakshasa 

engorged, incoherent as sirens 

I'm as possessed as a pisasu

who possesses only you, and 

can die for it. Or live. Or shriek.

Within Without

Please hold my head as gently 

as a bomb labeled 'headache'

knowing the earth is waiting

feeding time under the loam

who is it who knocked on the door (we didn't hear)

who is it who wants to come in (we can't really see)

howling into the cusp, dreams away from disaster

learning the circuitry of sadness, the lineage of loss

For in a different world 

I lost many months ago

my tongue a tombstone

fingers clawing worms

Hank and Huck

This morning when I woke, we had new puppy Hank--all sweet chubby puppy face and wobbly puppy legs. But... I couldn't find Huckie. Then I remembered that we'd "exchanged" Huckie for Hank. And then I was grief-stricken for Huckie, wondering if she was wondering where the heck we were and when we were coming to bring her back. Then I woke up properly and realized none of this had really happened. 

*Extra Huckie hugs*

I told my dream to Nu and we marched up to Big A and informed him that we needed a third puppy.

(I love how my brain braids things--I wonder if "Hank" is because I spent time with JL's "Henry" last weekend and "Hank" is a form of "Henry" but sounds a bit like "Huck?")

24/7 Panic Snapshots

Gratuitous cute-goofy picture

I woke in panic several times last night:

Once because my mind was singing the chorus to MISSIO's "Wolves" and it was terrifying in the dark.

Once because I was imploring Mai and the macaque to run, run, run (just finished Ocean Vuong's beautiful and brutal On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous).

Once because I dreamed I had taken At and Nu clothes shopping and they were breathed on and almost touched accidentally a few times by other shoppers. (How extra stupid would this unease have been a year ago?!)

And finally, because of the reasonable, rational, familiar dread of the school year approaching and all the preparation that needs to be accomplished in the weeks that remain. It's here--July 24th... 24/7. In exactly one month we'll be welcoming students back to campus.

I'm awake in the dream

praying silently, receiving silence
these are drugs, my thoughts drag
reciting pretty pretty pretty atrocities

something about zombie limbs
climbing, blooming
gift-wrapped in colorful skin

*

he surprised me when
he said his daughter
was an angel

I was really surprised she
wasn't as dead as
I imagined her

*

I'm dying to ask everyone
how is a six-year-old an angel?
what has been done to her?

Catch

tickles start in my palm, aim for my pits
catch in my throat: I am open, I let
my shame (shame) show

here are bugs leaking from my breath
like starry maps from blind eyes. O
I have lost my fingerprints

I must just be falling asleep I must be
falling falling falling into depths
or deaths. I don't

know the presidents who visit in my
dreams on boats shaped like me,
wooden as my smile. I fight

I find my freedom with my fists and feet
the slick of water still gets me though
entanglement, undertow

-

Meanwhile in real life...

While I was having the dream about losing Nu last night, Big A was at work where he almost lost a teenaged refugee because the dialect her mother spoke was so uncommon that they had to work with someone familiar with a translator from an adjacent language. Her mother gave up on words at one point and just wailed as she rocked her daughter's unconscious body.

There's so much pain in the world, and so much of the time, we're protected from the worst of it. I spent a lot of yesterday finding money to to people--Beto, Abrams, Gillum... while reading about voter disenfranchising and voting machine malfunctions... and then the news of the shooting in the synagogue at Pittsburgh. Today was about the Bolsonaro win in Brazil and a very depressing text exchange with my usually upbeat GOTV champion, At.

Nu and I cobbled some good times despite it all--we went to temple yesterday, UU today, LOLed at Ghostbusters 2016, delivered food to a pregnant friend, made arrangements for kids in Chennai to get Diwali presents and sweets, did tons of laundry, got Nu a new pair of kicks, spent some of Nu's birthday money on (unnecessary) pens and a stuffy, stocked the pantry, did a bunch of baking, and made a couple of comfy dinners.

At some point this weekend we got lost and even that was lovely.



And yet through it all, the knowledge of what lay outside our bubble--inexorable as the real rain, the creeping cold, and our leaky roof.









_

It was just me and Nu last night...

The news is full of bombs, so of course there were bombs in my dream.

Bombs were falling from the sky, and I was digging something out of the car, Nu was terrified of the bombs and said she was going to hide with the others (not family--the other war victims/refugees) in the ditches, so I tell her ok, go--I'll come join you in just a second. Except I didn't notice in which direction she headed off. So I keep calling her name on the outskirts of every crowd of people, but don't hear her call back to me. I keep doing this for hours... may be days. Until finally, a poor woman with many children (aren't we all poor by this point?) tells me that she remembers Nu and that even as she ran away from the car, "a bomb took her." It had happened the minute we'd parted and I hadn't known. The woman is telling me that she tried to reach her but couldn't, that she remembers her "large, wide eyes."

I looked at the expiry dates on everyone's passports when I woke up. The kids need to renew next year.

______________________
school counselor call + Cesar Sayoc + upcoming travel + Yemen + Gaza + refugees from Honduras + Life + work stress + Adnan Kashoggi + mom and sis traveling to Dubai

In the Machines

The ghosts call me late
most nights, rocking
the cradle of the landline

we never use. I never pick up
but I see their faces vaporize
in my icy breath,

their empty mouths asking
You put away all the leftovers? 
Do you know who we are?

I can see their mouths form it,
feel their curses touch my body
I mumble irritably

and try to solve their hungry
riddle, without magic:
pointing them to the fridge

_

Summer Insomnia

the calendar builds
to a crescendo till
the creatures arrive--
airy resurrections in
their bony hearts, eyes
scary, still screeching.

Small, accruing doubt,
all the signals are
yelling the death knell
of cellphone carillons
stones, petals, shells--
night falls, folds over

_____________
Big A and I took a nap right around the time Nu gathered the puppies and headed off to bed, but we both woke up to the most godawful wildlife brawl at midnight. Then we stayed up until about 3 am 'chit-chatting' as kindergartner Nu used to call it.
_