the making of things

"What is it like to eat an idea or its suggestion?"

It is the end of September     I feel the emptiness of the memories I forgot    but it's hardly a war     the heat is merely that of a kitchen    and I am fifteen and waiting   to transform ingredients into happiness     to make meaning with sweet triumph    I imagine my throne made with spoonsful of sugar   mean to spin jalebis airy as as asemic wishes     instead what I've made   clings to me like tears    my dad tells me    it's wonderful, it's wonderful     it really is wonderful, he says     but jalebis are proud as royal signatures      and what I have in the pan are droppings of batter     dad's hand lifts my chin   his other hand sketches in the air   name your dish after you make it, he tells me    he peers at the pan again    don't you see?    what you've made are the best "jalebi balls" I've ever seen    this is truly the best cooking advice        I will ever be given    to say what a thing is after it is done   the best writing advice        the best advice really

_________

Note: The quote is from RPT MC-60 00.27 8 by Tan Lin a poem about Wiley Dufresne's restaurant WD-50. We ate there once maybe 20 years ago? It seemed like a very New York thing to do at the time. (We used to go to fancy restaurants for lunch because the menu tends to be less expensive at lunch than at dinner.)

Pic: Across the fence, our neighbor's woods. 

what I should have said

I wrote to you a few years later
with congratulations on your 
powerful wounds

for your fate dressed as normalcy

for your pomp shrill and shiny

as new change 

you thank me for my ceremony
my choreography of care
in these small wars

that can bring only small victories

no, not even that--they bring 

only small feelings--

where lightness and excess play

with echoes from excuses

and fill with waiting 

_______________________________

Pic: I've consistently been late (only by a couple of minutes, but still!) to my Thursday-before-class-walk-meetings with KPB this semester, so my sole goal this morning was to be at our meeting point before she arrived. And I did it! It was such a gorgeous day... I will miss these bright blue skies when it's winter in Michigan. We're getting geared up for homecoming this weekend on campus.

"A Man Was Lynched Today"

Another tough day today. I'm in tears and so tired as I write this. 

This morning on my way to work, I heard on "Michigan Minute" that today marked Michigan's last death penalty in 1830. Stephen Simmons was guilty, but his final address was so moving that it led "Michigan to become the first English-speaking government to abolish capital punishment." It made me proud to hear that, and it felt like a good sign. 

I didn't sleep at all last night. (Max and Huckie were delighted I spent all night with them, Big A was mad, and if the timestamp on some of my internet comments seems weird, this is why.) 

My mother would say I was importing other people's troubles into my life. And I guess that's true in a way, but also isn't that the point of being human? I'd never heard of Marcellus Khalifah Williams until about ten days ago when the Innocence Project and the NAACP began bruiting the news that this innocent person was about to be executed by the state of Missouri despite evidence of innocence, lack of DNA proof, prosecutor's admission of racial bias, and dissent from the victim's family. The death penalty is always a human rights violation, but unspeakably evil when it executes innocent people.  Even the prosecuting attorney filed a motion to vacate Mr. Williams's conviction. But the M.O. Supreme Court and the U.S. Supreme Court both failed to stay his execution. M.O. Governor Parsons (who previously pardoned the racist couple who brandished guns at BLM protestors) received over 1.5 million petitions to pardon Mr. Williams in addition to calls, emails, and faxes, (including some of mine over the past week). But he merely disconnected his office phones and allowed Marcellus Williams to be executed at 6 pm central time today. 

The title of today's post comes from the title of NAACP's statement after Mr. Williams's execution; it is in turn based on their iconic, anti-lynching "A Man Was Lynched Yesterday" flag.

Pic: This is the poem Marcellus Khalifah Williams wrote recently about the children of Palestine. How humane it is to be at death's door oneself and express solidarity and love for others... It reminds me of how in 2020, in the wake of the George Floyd protests, the Palestinian people would tweet all the way from across the world, sending BLM protestors tips on how to avoid/recover from tear gas based on their own experiences. I love when we support each other... Some day I hope we will all be free. In the meantime, we must hold our democracy accountable. I noticed today that the Democratic Party, which previously opposed the death penalty, seems to have quietly removed that part from their 2024 platform. That's where I'm going to start. Tomorrow. 

at five in the evening

and under a dulled sky 

grows a grave privilege

I'm  sorry for my grief--

it is a wound I worry 

but also such a wonder

a life made from memory

here's the real, and there

the merely remembered

you  tell  me which

it  is...  I'll  confess 

I  mix  and  mistake

them all the time--even

 dream that some evening 

soon  it  will be spring 

and I will be kneeling

down singing and you 

will be close to me (even 

if you don't like my song)

__________

Pic: A bluejay in the front yard. 

Also: And this is freaky--at the end of that week where I had that dream which I worried meant something about my father's time on earth, I got word that my father's older brother passed away. My sister is attending his funeral tomorrow as our family's representative. My sis really does more than her fair share of family stuff because she's awesome. (Plus she's right there.) I have to say though that I felt a pang when I saw the cute invitations that had been sent out for the pooja my mom and sis just hosted--the shortened versions of their names even rhyme ("Manu and Anu")!

in the leaving and the love

I wrote this as a talisman 
to protect my kids
a sort of post-it 
for peace

                            for times parents become 

                            casual as strangers
                            people you meet
                            in the street
if the kids are looking
they should pick up 
how the past is 
in pieces

                      knowing it's better to love 
                      where you happen to be

                       until you again find
                       in me your home

____________

Pic: A full morning moon nestled between the clouds and chemtrails on my way to work this morning. By the time I got out of work this evening, the moon was back in the sky. I barely saw the fam today!

building a mystery

1) It's no mystery that I love Jennifer Finney Boylan, I've basically fangirled since I met her in 2011. I don't know though, why I waited so long to read her collab with Jodi Picoult--Mad Honey. For the last couple of days I've been waiting to finish all my million persnickety multiplying duties so I could sit down with my book. Just finished it today, and there were so many parts that brought me to tears and so many twists I didn't see coming and so many parts I just had to reread. It was so good. 

2) I was in a mad panic yesterday because I had written up a paper proposal about the Jhumpa Lahiri collection, Roman Stories, but couldn't find it in my email or the Google doc I'd been working on with some colleagues on another proposal. I finally found the huffy title I'd used ("Tell Me Where it Hurts: Ailment and Alienation in Jhumpa Lahiri’s Roman Stories"), by using Google History, and after over an hour of searching every doc I had opened in March, I finally found the notes I made. Back to the drawing board, I guess.

3) I got brave today and went looking for the snake I saw three weeks ago. I wore long boots, made a lot of noise, and was on high alert. But Mx. Slithers seems to have disappeared just as mysteriously as they appeared. I'd read that snakes don't like strong smells, so I took some old packets of curry powder and scattered them in that part of the garden, hoping to scare them away forever.

4) Pic: Huck, Max, Big A, and I out on our post-dinner walk... It's a mystery why our fluffy doodles think they can take on our neighbor's muscular German Shepherd, but they always do their version of trash talk as we pass. 

no stranger world

what if the the days 
called us to 
                                            speak to the strangers 
                                            seek them out
they who have much 
to share of the dark and day 
                                            whose names are conversations
                                             whose hellos are history 
when the voiceover

of memory 

                                            is the scream of a dark dagger 
                                            but sometimes lilts to tomorrow 
saying me saying me
saving me saving me
                                            for it may be as hard to get into a world 
                                            as it is to get out of it 
I too was a stranger once 
how strange that was                                
                                              let it be
                                              let me be

______

Pic: In the woods out front in the evening light. I've been thinking a lot about the way refugees are being described in this moment--partly because we used to live in Yellow Springs (Big A's old hometown), which is close to Springfield, OH... in fact, Big A was born in a Springfield hospital! Also, Haiti itself is both inspiring as the first country to win independence from slavery, but tragic for the way France has tethered it to poverty in retaliation. And I love the stoics and more recently, Martha Nussbaum's interpretation of cosmopolitanism as "bringing the stranger in." I would find it wonderful to live in a world where there were no "strangers."

heart-shaped tree

If there is a heart-shaped tree     might it have heart-shaped roots        does it live in a heart-shaped world where we too might be invited in?      Oh, I am being silly?        I guess I am being silly.     I know.   I know I've never stopped...       I never stopped looking for love everywhere after all.      Is a heart-shaped tree an address?     Does anyone live there?       Could it be a home?     Could it be a trap?    Could it be both like a spider's web?        It is here in my life         adoration stronger than addiction      One can go almost everywhere from there. 

______________________

Pic: A heart-shaped tree! I used to love finding heart-shaped things... Here's a link to Drew Barrymore's work Find It In Everything 

our strange logics

green the river, green the woods
if we don't have time, time has us

              enflamed with error, the things 

              we mutter soon become mantras 

you must try to forgive everyone  

who said things/happen/a reason 

               finding chance, choice after choice,

               and ways to fold time in your mouth 

steal your turbulent hopes from us

send it toward your own ripe pause

________________________

Further details from the "Gun Story" that surfaced after a few retellings.

1) The kids asked me what the gun looked like and I couldn't remember because I wasn't looking at it. What were you looking at, they asked. That's when I had to admit I'd been distracted by the dog in the backseat of their car and the family erupted into howls of laughter. 

2) On why I'm not afraid I'll bump into the people with the gun again. Their car had temporary Missouri tags, I imagine they were visitors here for the weekend and are no longer in town. (Also, I got a picture of their tag, so I'm not completely useless.)

3) The confused/amused look Big A and I gave each other when the young police officer repeatedly told us they were very unnerved and shaken by this incident. It was very Gen Z of them. 

___________________________

Pic: The river is so green from reflecting the trees here! The Red Cedar in the woods behind L's house.

my calendar is a landscape

my feet are rooted in the ground

my face is in tears 

up at your second-story window 

in the harsh delight of half-light 

my gaze falls halfway 

dry like my breath on your neck 

eager as flame flirting with a book 

inside which everyone 

you thought you loved might live

tell me when it's time to begin 

the burning of July 

so we can take August with us too

________________________

Pic: Recuperating in the hammock (I'm feeling so much better). Someday I want to get a picture of geese heading out in a "V." (Just putting it out there to the universe.)

learning to haunt

I walk so far, all I can remember 

of life is living itself 

the sunset stippling my face as 

the arch in my foot aches   

I dream about shadows in the woods

and hug my hunger close 

like a tiny puddle that will be sucked 

back into the earth overnight 

______________

Pic: resplendent evening skies, puddles

pick me/patriarchy

our fathers return in the evening 

the sun setting their hair 

alight in halos 

as we wait--uniform as pebbles 

but rowdy, eager, and ready 

weightless in loyalty

no wonder revolution feels far away

the feeling of it receding from

right beneath our feet

_______________________

Note: So dissatisfied with this and not yet done, but this is as far as I got today. 

Pic: There was some sunshine after much rain, and these happy blooms at the end of a long day. 

Love is patient, love is kind/Y'all gon' make me lose my fuckin' mind

Today was for a mini-hang with Nu. There was tiramisu and samosas... And I found the perfect white tee for them to tie-dye to wear to senior sunrise... 

But our big thing was finding the circuit court so we could file the papers for their name change. I'd meticulously filled out the forms as a present for their 16th birthday, but we'd never gotten around to actually filing it at the court. The clerk and Nu were very impressed that I'd done all the paperwork without a lawyer. Impressing my 16-year-old isn't easy, and I'll take this win. Fingers crossed that everything goes smoothly. My darling deserves some softness in their life.

My sister, who is childfree, noted that parenting seems fraught with worry. If you're not worrying about nursing or toddler milestones, you're worrying about school, health, education, employment, relationships, or some combination of the above or something else entirely, no? Or is it just me? Like, I loved, loved, loved my day with At yesterday, but there was an underlying sadness about how hard their life is. Although, if I think about it, I guess I too was poor at 25 when I was in grad school? Anyway...

Pic: I rounded off the day at EM's birthday party. All she wanted in lieu of presents were donations to the Refugee Development Center, so I added a printout of the poem I'd written for her. She doesn't swear that much, so I took it as a compliment when she texted late at night to say "I almost cried when I read the poem. I love it so fucking much."

harbor

I don't forget to look into 

the sky this morning too

                       I don't miss the trees

                       shaking their heads no

the clouds climbing

as shade--perhaps rain 

                        and in the middle 

                        of an ordinary night 

this visitation of light 

I am pointed like a boat

                        in the direction of the sky

                        waiting to be pushed into

another space of time

some messy scatter of life

                         to go and then write back 

                         without hesitation or revision

of the simplest things:

"Dear" "Goodbye" "Sincerely"

________________________

Pic: MZ's photo of the Aurora from yesterday. I was up till 3 too, but didn't see anything although I peered and peeked. 

joy ride

for E.M.

our car crawls through I-96 

and idle light

we race through conversations

wondering 

at coincidence and serendipity

of finding the exit 

for "Baldwin Street" just as we 

gush about 

James Baldwin's centenary  

or of seeing 

"Dayton Freight" just as we were

discussing 

a time at the University of Dayton

So... now fired up

by our "power to manifest" 

we tidy up earth--  

call out all we want: world peace,

an election landslide,

an end to poverty... and billionaires,

humane higher ed...

It's as if we believe in the madness

in ourselves

as we believe in the hopeful darkness 

cradling stars

___________________

Pic: The Red Cedar through the grille on the Spartan Bridge.

you probably shouldn't read this

you probably shouldn't read this     I've said it all before        I get through another day          it piles up and becomes a life         what can be said       you've seen it all yourself       another school was bombed today in Gaza         Al Tabin School        I watched it in words         but there are pictures if you want it          can you bear to see another photo of dead siblings huddled together under the rubble       who picks up the bodies and the pieces of bodies      the guts       the hearts     the ashes    white phosphorus buries itself into the body and burns all the way down to the bone like a firework        it is sick         I am sick          there's a great sickness in this            there's a sickness in doing this       and a sickness in a world that allows this to happen         we know this is happening       how have we not shut this shit down          I fall on the same rock         I beat against the same rock             massacre       genocide       holocaust        the words are not enough          and also the words are so old and immense             they sound a bit like I might be misusing them                    like I might be exaggerating a bit               I'm not                     I feel self-conscious for saying the same thing over and over           186,000 dead after living through this over and over and over     I feel I might go mad       I go mad      I feel myself going mad      I keep saying words that have no power           they have no power   they move no one             they have no power   nothing happens after I say them           they have no power   they cannot answer the blinded child asking "why do they do this to us"        I am an adult in this world this child lives in        I bear responsibility      I am American and my taxes pay for those bombs       I bear responsibility         they will never forgive us for reminding them they are human

___________________________

The wonderful June Jordan said all of this and so this beautifully back in 1982 in an unpublished letter: "I claim responsibility for the Israeli crimes against humanity because I am an American and American monies made these atrocities possible. I claim responsibility for Sabra and Shatilah [sic] because, clearly, I have not done enough to halt heinous episodes of holocaust and genocide around the globe. I accept this responsibility and I work for the day when I may help to save any one other life, in fact." The whole article in the LA Review of Books about Audre Lorde, Adrienne Rich, June Jordan, and Palestine is awesome.  

midwest represent

We had a visit from Engie today. Huck and Max *loved* her; Nu and Big A automatically looped her into the ribbing and silly jokes around the dinner table. Engie has the prettiest toes and sparkling quips and tried hard to get us to follow "dog" rules. I loved hanging out with her solo later and we took a long after-dinner walk to Beal Gardens before saying goodbye.

It felt like meeting a dear long-lost friend... it was meeting a dear long-lost friend although we'd never hung out in person before. I love all the ways we can connect in the world.

(Also, this is Engie's 20th year of blogging. I helped celebrate by writing a guest post on poetry a few months ago and forgot to log it here.)

Pic: Engie and me--our hand signs are supposed to rep the midwest (MW). Pic by Nu.

long quote; short reflections

from James Baldwin's The Price of the Ticket

"One must say Yes to life and embrace it whenever it is found — and it is found in terrible places; nevertheless, there it is. For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the moment we break faith with one another, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out."
_____________

it's how we'll always want it:
the mechanisms of the morning, the dynamics of the day, the tang of exhaustion
the branch whipping back in our face, the clefts weathered into the faces of trees
like the slight path overgrown into almost nothingness and meandering into forest
I don't know where we go

_____________

Pic: Morning tea in my happy place. I have some cherry tomatoes and chilies that I MUST pick now. They are literally rotting on the vine... I'm good at growing things, but overly cautious about harvesting.

what is time

"There is never time in the future in which we will work out our salvation. The challenge is in the moment; the time is always now."

100 years of James Baldwin. How everything he said still glimmers in my soul

300 days of the killing in Gaza. The grief and guilt of 186,000 people dead (and the many more missing, disabled, orphaned...)

A deadline that keeps coming back like a zombie

A lifetime of intentions in an unreasonable world

A lifeline of everything happy wrapped in possible sadness and vice versa

In the meantime, love shows up and we carry on
_______________
Pic: It was Nu's turn to bring the after-dinner fruit to the table and when they placed the wedges of watermelon with its Palestinian colors next to the "Against the MSU War Machine" zine we picked up at the protest, the juxtaposition was just begging to be photographed.

you may have heard

I dreamt of death on this brilliant day
the smudge of a cloud in my eye
at this ordinary catastrophe 

it could set my people free from care
it has taken me years to see this

is a love song, a love song

to the day dissolving in sympathy
 to forgetting how you love me 

by keeping the world a secret

___________________________ 

Pic: This funny fellow in the grass kept me company this afternoon.