an unfolding

I have been dreaming of people
invisible mountains I exhaled 

into existing

twisting, quickening and though 

short-lived as grass, are seeds 

spiraling in space

are tendrils--of time and desire

opening and expanding

nodding, knowing

a  presence  here to make up for

an absence there, everywhere

the whims of distance 

I... wonder at the un-being before, 

after--the gasp of busy-ness now

marks how life slips by 

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

Note: I did not expect when I started writing that in writing about the space we occupy, I would slip into--and invoke--ideas of galaxies. I think some of this came from dreaming last night--vividly--of people who were important for a season but I may never see again. And I miss Scout so much... my irrational search for him certainly spans every interpretation of "heavens."

Pic: I found this perfect and early autumnal tree in the grocery store parking lot!

"Eventually everything happens"*

 on TV ads                                                       on TV shows

death is always a side effect                            death is always a side effect 

of every medication                                        in every condition of life

                                                

I might as well spin worlds like cocoons

shortcuts are the milestones

the void is the vision 

and I may have grown out of summer

I may have finally grown up

in a leap of breath

I say my name like it's a memory

eventually everything happens

eventually it is time

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

* I took the title from Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "eventually everything happens..." But I can't find the full quote right now. I'm not at my best and might be doing quite badly... I wonder if people can tell. Like I left the trunk of my car open in the parking lot until a colleague friend texted me, didn't hear back (I was in class), and just decided to shut it for me. I keep leaving my phone/bag/laptop in classrooms and people kindly bring them to me. I win, as I was telling SD, at "the spaciness" right now. 

inexhaustible

dizzy with composition
but otherwise ordinary

                                         the body buds 
                                        just like a fist

history may recede or 

burst--busy with horror
                                       how could I trust

                                       its cold epilogue

to welcome me like kin
or to drag my silences in 

alternate endings

I've heard living can change you

not living is like a group project 
where you are just a small name 

defeat meets grief, and they feast
on the dark seated in your mouth

and in the phones you yell into

in languages you always lip-sync

to arguments whose timelines 

sit six feet under the future 

I bet I could dream better than this

I could get to know myself

I could know I was safe 

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

Pic: Calendula? Cone flowers? By MSU Beal Gardens. Nice story on the 150th anniversary of Beal Gardens today on the radio. 

yesterday's sunrise

sunrise 
frees the cynical coals flaring
in my heart
blesses the vermillion wounds 
of my soul
speeds  in a blessed contagion 
to forgive

the fragile futures I've outlived

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

Pic: Yesterday's sunrise over Mackinaw Island bay. Water and celestial bodies make me so happy! The birds on the water are geese, not swans, but the scene reminded me of Yeats's "The Wild Swans at Coole."

summer retreat

every morning I try to learn
it's my  errand  as the  sun goes blind

I become  the  day's drama

the music of birds; the silence of birds

I've hammered desire into 
some general  theory of dispossession
shredding the faces of flowers
until they become a synonym of before

It is a question of attention

an experiment to re-turn these directions

to trust--quick--desire as true

pause as I pour more love into the world

__________________________________
Pic: Max discovers the hideout of Kylo, the black squirrel who regularly taunts the puppies. There's a train behind the tree-line too.

at night when

I walk  past  our  house 

again and again... again

with  our  dogs, actually 

silent  blue  super moon 

close  enough  to  touch 

I feel a bit like... a ghost

on the outside I can feel  

only flowing and falling 

the swallowing of places 

like  I'm  not  even  here

our windows like pages 

in a picture book, maybe

a  passage  from  a novel 

this bloom in your voice 

as I finally open the door

Pic: Nu, Max, Big A, & Huck. These guys! Being so cute when I returned from a long day of teaching. 

High: seeing new and familiar faces in class. + Being able to remember the names of a hundred or so new students. 

Low: Saying goodbye to JD, a dear colleague-friend who's moving to U of M.

you have no idea

I search soft darknesses 

at  the  edges of the day

after the concrete crackle 

of some  things I've said

words are also adventures

evasive... and anonymous

sticking inside  my throat

like an offering in an epic  

I said I couldn't remember

although I  do know  how

I watched television instead 

of praying--still, they visited 

those archangels and aliens

always animal... melancholy 

my body is still not immortal

but somehow... is finally free

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

Pic: Black-eyed Susans on the MSU campus. I went walking by myself for once, and realized as I turned this corner that I was probably going to bail on the birthday party in the park (fun! already RSVP-ed!) I was supposed to go to.  

chances are

the tide seeks

greedily by the river 

it could leave us hanging

or help us lose--

then we're all swimmers

reaching away, trying to speak 

until we choose 

the suck-slide of undertow 

waves keep a beat--like trauma

go ahead, tell me

how many people we are

allowed to be before any ending

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

Didn't go to book club today--just didn't feel it was ok to be indoors with other people. The book was Bonnie Garmus's Lessons in Chemistry--I found it both alarming and twee and can't tell yet if I liked it. 

Also in OMG: L and T stocked us up on food--soup, pierogies, grape leaves, chicken salad... I'll not need to cook for days.

Pic: A very swollen Red Cedar with Big A. 

we could ride backward into memory

we could ride backward         into memory
meeting people      who were bad 
for us,      who        ruined weekends... 

ruined our lives         for nothing stays

illustrated  and  irrefutable,       we were chaste 

with  longing like       determined children

weeping          around a wedding cake

Pic: Near Gingee Fort last week.

how could I live so far away?

how could I live so

far away?

I guess I didn't know 

I could

life is such a hard thing 

to chance

you can leave a place

and then find

it always stays on you 

like fine sand

And Ten Notes From Today: 

1. Mom, aunt, sis, and brother-in-law are sick; At and Nu appear to be recovering. I feel so conscience-stricken about my germy kids and worried about everyone else with a side of I told you guys to mask up when we were in the car together!
2. I may be developing misophonia... and also the bands of howling street dogs were... interesting the first couple of nights, but not anymore.
3. Big A has already neglected my flowering plants to death. But Huckie and Max are well loved, so I'll keep him.
4. Had to say goodbye to family who came up from Coimbatore and Chennai to hang out with us... I miss them already. 
5. Esp. VM and AA--seeing them wrap At and Nu in the same kind of unconditional love that saved me when I was a teen has been such a joy.
6. It's Monday, so we've had to stop partying all night. I haven't left the house all day.
7. I got so much cash on Amazon India gift cards, which I cannot use from the US, so I've ordered a ton of stuff and it remains to be seen if we'll receive it before our departure date.
8. A realization that I have a very special position in the family as the oldest grandchild/nibling--it's nothing about me, any ol' baby landing into this family just waiting to love on their big sister's baby would have done. I just happened to luck out big time.
9. The class I picked up as an overload due to a colleague's sudden departure was cancelled. Alleluia. I did it mostly out of a sense of duty--the extra cash would have been nice, but the extra time will be sweeter.
10. I had a Zoom meeting with my editor in NZ this morning. It was a fairly routine meeting, except when they sweetly said "you get to weave the web," I was taken aback because I heard it as "you get to wave the whip." Umm, no.

Pic: At's picture of me by the sea last week. (Pondycherry)

lingering

what is the correct tense for promise

for the butterflies you tried to catch

like the meaning in unknown words 

when you learn loving less is useless

what might we say or sing or pray

aligning the trembling fall of leaves

--if you're still listening, do you hear

content rustling in the fleeing day... 

Pic: A bud vase with wildflowers to take upstairs to Nu.

still, life

as long as I don't try to explain
we're okay, we're alright 
and here I go again

like an ultrasound finding life
--ghostly, quiet, yearning
so sure of myself

my favorite part is when we try

to turn the city into a garden:

birds become seeds,

a river forks past trees dragging

desires, secrets, on its belly...  

vaporizes like a ghost

Pic: The Red Cedar, MSU.

first draft

what is even in my head today

                       how ever did I find my way 

to blessing the sweet, the weird

                        to reversing to pressing

through these unmarked doors

                       looking for I know not what

becoming... I know not who

                        there's something here maybe

suffering but gently... gently 

                       showing me cracks in the floor

and letting me pretend I can 

                       read them like lines on a map

Pic: Bone Appetit! Huck and Max stole some dinner napkins and then played with them... together!

things I learn

Things I learn from a graffito:
How am I supposed to forget about you
...when there's garbage on every street

Things I learn from a seven-year-old:
my sister is just four, and she has only one eye
I'm the one who needs to look out for her

Things I learn from the internet:
When you're a writer you have homework every day
and then you die

Pic: This giant hibiscus L gave me and Big A several wedding anniversaries ago hasn't bloomed in three-four years... But this year, it has been producing blooms profusely. Hallelujah.

diaspora

Had the afternoon not been a remedy
I would not have known to cross 
the hour with conversation 

to wash ashore with no introduction

getting there just in time 

to miss the show

the cast of my life files into the room

discussing the best moments

as if at an after party

speak welcome in hugs, hands, eyes 

I can understand in languages

I couldn't even name

Pic: The pond at MSU Beal Gardens. It was such a brilliant day today. I walked three hours: half by myself; half with Big A.

crossing

a cargo of summer haze
where there were rocks

there's uncovered  sand 

                                      where there was sand

                                      is the tide  coming in 

                                      and   then it goes out  

I can barely remember

what we  left  behind

or  if  we  had  cried

                                      I just know that you 

                                      couldn't save us all

                                      you didn't even try

first you caught my eye

but then  looked  away

I  see  through  you 

                                     someday this crossing 

                                     may  be   different or 

                                      it could stay the same 

I  see  through   you

know whom to blame

I  see  through   you

Pic: Ducks on the Red Cedar.  Big A and I were supposed to go on a run in the morning, but it was 3:45 by the time we left and so hot I could barely run a mile. So we walked along the river instead.

Note: I can't stop thinking about the refugee boat off the Greek coast. 

going back

I have secretly sewn smiles 

into  the  hems  of clothes

that get wet wading nearer 

to you... so they will float

on down these hallways 

... of dreams, of memory 

rippling and in stillness,  

their history of undoing 

the heaviness of things

of even--yes--sweetness

its stickiness... catching

at skin and hair... circling

and scabbing selfishly, carrying

cells...  cities... of light into me

my face resting in your palms--

cupped like a nest...  like home

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

Pic: I have a vision in my head for this little patch of garden--I love working in it, and I love spending time in it--especially reading on the bench under the (volunteer, sapling) tree. But it looks simultaneously scanty and overgrown. I should probably consult a proper landscaper. 

(puppy-inspired) prayer (a doggerel piece) (made with Nu, in honor of Max!)

to just say yes

as never before

fast and eager

even if unsure 

I know now how

I may never fly

but yes to vistas

even if too high

Note: Made with Nu, in honor of Max!

Pic: Max with an assortment of disemboweled, decapitated, and dismembered toys. We'd just returned from NB's graduation open house and he was so happy to be reunited.

what it means when

I still have to name the day 
trees and clouds too--

a whole childhood

as constant as a backdrop 

unforgiven drama too

plus my tragic flaw

in a script guttural as grafitti 

plain as conflict too... 

close to call

what should I call this rush 

of happy-sad or sad-happy

touched with guilt 

Pic: Max and Huck are (to use Nu's word) "swarming" all over BL because they give the best scritches. I usually hide people's faces, but I didn't have to here!