another love poem

my class is united by laughter
until we look alike 

                            it digs a hole in the day where 

                            our anxiety disappears

as if sifting through our souls

for the answer

                            and finding only half words

                            and silly dreams

freed us forever/for a moment

(or so it seemed)

______

Pic: First-year-seminar poster exhibition. The moment I'm thinking of was in another class, but the picture I took there has too many recognizable faces, and I haven't asked for permission to post it. I'm glad the semester is almost over... but I will miss the camaraderie and intellectual tussle of the classroom. Sending extra love out into the universe for the young ones and the little ones today.

extra ordinary

the way some things seem to grow
wide, wide wings and know

how to find comfort 

how winter branches from summer

boughs to reenter a reminder--

earth could be paradise

it could be what finally sets me free

lets me see--when walls close in

my skies open again

______________

Pic: View from the eastward bridge over the Red Cedar. It's not yet officially open, but I sampled it with L last week and Big A this morning. Reader/StephLove, I touched it! 

“The Drifting”

I was so sad today to learn that Lynn Rather, a wonderful human and poet, has passed on to another plane. I met Lynn only once--we were billed together at a reading--but she made a strong impression of strength, sass, and cigarette smoke. AK and DD were good friends with her and with her at the end.

from “The Drifting” by Lynn Rather

on nights like this I think

I have not loved enough,
I have not given as much as I could.

snow blows and drifts across fields.
that is what it does.

the wind roars and then is gone.
that is what it does.

they give themselves utterly, and move on.

__________

Pic: The pretty, pretty snow persisted today. I took this from an upstairs window--I'd just stepped out of my room, and my heart lifted on seeing Nu and Max playing outside.

from fall to falling snow

traveling away from awakening

from fall to falling snow

in a hush wide as freedom 

here I am, disguised as myself
first as rock, then as sand
then sand in an hourglass

I hear birds questioning the day

the cold is sage as a mother-- 

and savage--holding us still 

__________

Pic: Snowfall along the Red Cedar. I've been keeping my promise to myself to get out (of the house/of my head) and walk more.

Fierce

Things I control: My inbox is at zero, I've graded and sent feedback on every student's project, I'm caught up with committee work... 

Things I do not control: A text informs me of an armed robbery a few blocks away, news of a shooting at a superstore close to where we used to live and where MIL still lives, L tells me she was friends with the MSU student who died in Gaza.

I'm going to take the next two days off to loaf and read and cook and eat and laze and hang out with my people. I shall loaf and invite my soul. 

Pic: Max and Hucky celebrating with an impromptu tussle at my feet.

my mom speaks on trust, lust, and gods

My mother once told me 

that even if God himself told her so

she wouldn't believe my dad could have an affair. 

I was so touched by the trust 

she had in dad... and then she added:

"You know how he is--he really hates to spend money."

This never fails to cheer me up

as does her her other quirky semi-religious 

pronouncement wondering why on earth Hindu women 

always prayed for a husband 

like Rama--famously so faithful to Sita 

"He made her life such a misery," she says, She's right. 

He literally made her walk through fire

to prove her chastity... and still abandoned her.

"Now, our Krishna," she says, smiling (he's her favorite)

"yes, he may have had all of those 

161108 wives... but he kept each of them happy

we never hear of him making even one cry." She's not wrong.

__________

Pic: This mossy-jeweled beauty in Baker Woods yesterday with LB and TB. I was jabbering about my mom a lot yesterday.

falling back

my mother says the sun 

is always a prized guest

silken beams trailing 

like roots, tickling,

                          lighting up treasures--

                          leaves fallen-golden 

                          who in their turn lay 

                           sunlight in my path 

I can barely believe

how these hinged wings, 

like words, are forgiving- 

fervid, budding in mud 

                          into a fullness of flood

                          this near sunset of leaves

                          blood-red, vital--and yet 

                          leaving--so close to a fall 

________________________

Pic: I got TWO walks in! One up to the Red Cedar by myself. And another with LB and TB to Baker Woods. I'll be stuck at meetings and appointments all day tomorrow, so I'm glad I got an extra one in today.

season's change

I am open at this time of the year
I know how to love
        I've built a bed out of longing
        and can't put it down

__________________________

Pic: Playing "catch" with Max. All I have to do is stomp my foot and yell "catch that puppy!" and Max'll just chase himself all over the yard, running towards me to periodically feint around my feet until he runs out breath. Scout did this too; Huckie would never. Max is very nearly camouflaged amongst the leaves on the ground here.

in a sweet November

daylight savings time equals
the sky flying the colors 
of the trans flag

I do not even have to slog for 
its full throated support 
of possibility

instead I learn how to just be

how to just breathe

and conjugate joy

___________________

Pic: The sky at school bus drop-off yesterday. 

a token

squirrels leap off falling branches

why not just be happy again

                 life is one thing and then another

                 building like a good paragraph

the world still tilts, I slide to you 

even as the last word is spoken 

_____________

Pic: At and I were in matching pants when we met up for Nu's play yesterday.

"Am I dead?"

Am I dead? Are you taking me to the cemetery?" 
The child asked as she was rescued 
from the debris of her home.

No, darling... you are alive and beautiful 
you are like the the moon herself.
Said the rescuer. 

_____________

Continents away I shake from the horror of this moment... and the beauty and tenderness of it. 

I spent most of the day outside... gardening rather aggressively... pulling things out, raking, mulching. I became so much a part of the landscape these deer didn't even notice me at first.

Pic: Hello from near and deer.

as I lay me down

in a land of too many addresses
I am always a visitor

in a time of too many goodbyes

I am always afraid 

sleep is my immense leap into time,

into self-addressed prayer 

in the small hours, who is not alone
my self-portrait asks 

_________

Note: I think I need another stanza or two here, but I'm going to go to sleep :). It's so, so, so late (past 4:00 am) and I have to leave at 7:00 to get to an 8:00 am meeting, so even without helping Nu with getting to school, my margin of sleep is running perilously low. This is my "self-addressed prayer" and the panicky calculus of my remaining waking minutes...

Pic: Sanford Woods in passing earlier this week.

can you hear me now?

(for Scout)

I used to whisper to you 

in Telugu

              so you'd know how love sounds   

              in all my languages

                                     saying yes, only yes, 

                                     so it falls like love

                                     yes to all tenderness

                                     which I... become 

              there's still the same world  

              with my changed life  

and somehow eternity 

seems an enemy

_____________________________

Pic: The salad Big A made to go with our tiny pizzas was so good! Shaved artichokes, fennel, grapefruit, and avocado in a lemon-dijon dressing. I don't think I've eaten a raw artichoke before? We decided marinated beans, more parmesan, and ground pepper would be good add-ons for next time. Nu won't be home for dinner this week because of the school play, and it's giving us a taste of how it might feel to be empty-nesters. Pretty cool, actually!

When I picked Nu up, they were holding hands with another theater kid and skipping all the way down the car line. It was adorable. This is so different from the faintly agoraphobic child of last year, and I'm so grateful.

small talk

the hours whisper: hurry, hurry 

deep in the day, as we wade in 

the news rippling like a rumor

in the safe normal of the world

what songs can we follow now

across borders certain to harm 

their traceless calm an unreality

their scenery silent... and empty

the willful trails worn into time 

still show in between... the wars

everyone wants the good stories 

of better worlds no one has seen

____________________________

Scott Long, a fellow at the Human Rights Program at Harvard, has uploaded his entire (1700+ volume) library on Israel-Palestine to the cloud. The link is here.  I was horrified midday that many of the Gazan accounts I had been following were now silent; no internet, no landlines, a complete communications blackout. 

Pic: Still at the conference; here's a little station that says "Give Solace Take Solace" and a ton of PostIts with messages on them. Mine is the blue note that says "Be Curious, Be Furious."

forever takes forever

This is the place. This is the place.

the leaves are turning
yet the hinge at my neck refuses
to unhook our gazes
you simply remember rainbows 
echoes edging the rain 

and pause to wonder if this poem 

will be reply or elegy 

_______________________

Pic: An overcast sky, but the fall colors were simply brilliant in Bellaire. (From our weekend trip.) 

here we go

Although it has stayed mostly green where we are, I can see the colors turning every day on my commute north to work. I listened to chants in Sanskrit in the car and it was pleasant and peaceful and gave me some time to enjoy the poetic beauty of the slokas and puzzle out the agglutinative meanings of words I don't know (my favorite this week is samudra-tanayaya-- body like an ocean).

I am excited to finish the 1001 meetings scheduled for today and then take off with the fam for Big A's birthday weekend. 

I couldn't find any places on the water that would allow us to bring Huck and Max, so KB kindly offered up her parents' place on Torch Lake. The plan is to get everyone a light dinner, pack a backpack each, pick up At after his shift... and go!

Pic: A glimpse of the Red Cedar north of us from CC.

seen and felt

I'm moved by all the people all across the world protesting the ongoing war in the middle east and especially by the thousands of young people chanting "not in my name." The protests put into action the Rabbi Tarfon quote that has helped me in times of crushing weltschmerzen: "Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief... You are not obligated to complete the work but neither are you free to abandon it." 

The two main constituencies in the U.S. organizing for a ceasefire right now are (1) Palestinians whose families are under attack in Gaza and (2) progressive American Jews, some of whom lost family in the Hamas attack. This is an incredible coalition that gives me hope.

And this snippet from Marwan Makhoul I have been seeing everywhere is simultaneously insight and benediction. The text reads: "In order for me to write/poetry that's not political/I must listen to the birds/and in order to hear the birds/the war planes must be silent."

May it be so.

in a critical condition

Ivy clings like memories even when all the tenses fall wrong

I keep looking over my shoulder for the children are slower and left behind 

I tried to bring them bandages and medicine but find only their cinders in the air  

I fall, then my face falls, my sight falls away, and

then my mask falls

I've answered grief as loud as I can but how could I be louder than my disbelief

I sweep up my footprints in the dust, my imprints in the sand, and let my fingerprints burn

I have mourned the dead; I am mourning the dead; I will always be mourning the dead.

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

Pic: Ivy wall with L.

for I don't know where I am

the day will happen soon enough
the shout of the sun 
the hit of to-dos 

how I will climb up the afternoon
then slide down
to dinner 

the hours search with serrated teeth 

to stitch time up

into context

sleep is a circadian memento mori  

yet I step to it

stirring

its shadows frantic, lurking in gaps

but once its here

its here

Pic: Huck and Max, tails aflutter.  (Cuddle time!)

the hang of it

I will myself to remember the contour

of this beast with no beginnings

this longing even when all is given 
even when nothing is desired

I really have no reason to remember 

the safe, ordinary history of today 

cautious happiness, habitual beauty 

its precious and explicit luck

I taste the escaped words, their notions 

of emptiness and openings  

in the release of the first silver raindrop

its receipt splattering in the dirt

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

Pic: CC's view of The Red Cedar from her canoe. All of the feelings for the beauty of this day and the heartbreak of the news...