down and then a recharge

I spent Friday night in the E.R. with Nu (so thankful they're ok now), and there was another fatal ICE shooting in Minneapolis. 

My brain is fried, my heart is sore. 

Friday's meetings got shifted online due to the weather, so I absolutely did not have driving to the E.R. at 2 am in -20 degree weather with my car barely 50% charged in my plans. I made it with 8 miles left on the battery. But I found a charger in town and recharged.

I got a heart recharge too with bestie KB too. She spent two days here and I heard about her adventures marching with her fellow Minneapolitans, we talked our hearts out, and I have plans to see her again later this week, so it's not goodbye yet. 

Pic: Timeline cleanse. Huck, Max, and K. It was Max's first time meeting K, and he was all over her. 

Minneapolis goodness

What a day! Labor and faith groups led a general strike in Minneapolis--thousands upon thousands marched, hundreds of small businesses closed for the day. It was just inspiring to see streets full of people braving subzero temperatures demanding ICE get out of their city. It really revitalized my faith in people power.

Over 600 faith leaders from all over the country showed up, and I saw pictures of them on social media protesting at the airport trying to shut things down so deportation flights couldn't take off. 

Another good thing out of Minneapolis--Bestie KB is coming for a visit this weekend! I hope her flight out of MPLS is able to take off!

Pic from In These Times.

babies as bait

What are we doing?

Why is a literal five-year-old in ICE custody? Why has been taken from Minneapolis to San Antonio? Why not hand him over to CPS in his home state? 

School officials say he's being "used as bait" to trap members of his family. I can't get over that thought or terminology. It feels like my heart is being shredded.

Pic: Liam Conejo Ramos with his pre-K Spiderman backpack and his floppy-eared hat, and a middle name that I keep translating to "bunny rabbit," and a little face that looks like he's trying so hard not to cry even as he's dwarfed by a huge van and a portly ICE goon.

Is this the criminal ICE claims they're getting off the streets? Do we all feel safer now?

love so ordinary

you have to shut your eyes to see it

that's when the day goes dark
running like a scar seaming 

into something close

I stop, blind as a person in a photo

coming to the raised edge 

of spectacle to gather 

you, mother

from vast violet evenings to say

goodnight, knowing I will 

endure--or at least see

you in the morning 

___________

Pic: Squirrels on the MSU campus... honestly, they seemed monkey-sized!

some warm thoughts on a frigid day

So far this year, the kid from Chicago has visited once and the college kid has spent two weekends at home. I squeezed them every chance I got. Not only did they squeeze me back, they're prone to special things like doing my chores for me when I'm not paying attention and bringing me treats when I'm working. They're consistently the best.

It's painful doing video calls with my dad and sis... because from my side of things, my mom's absence is so plain. It's difficult also because my mom was the chatty one on that side, the one with whom I shared books and shows, and now it's just the three of us being sad. 

My mom was so very chatty. I always laugh when I think of that one time At was on a phone call with my mom (maybe when At was 9/10 years old). At had been silent on the call for a while, so I whispered encouragement to say something, and At shot back, "I'm still waiting for Ammama to stop talking." Haha. Good times. 
______________________
Pic: A glimpse of The Maple River. Cold. It's going to stay in the single digits all week.

if meaning is made of anything

the air feels full of fussy messages 

from the future

every black pebble I gather whispers

reminders for later 

how easily your attention slips away

--a dancer in the crowd

multiplying me with mute mystery 

until I exist

for you might say the book is complete 

but I have a feeling 

I'll still imagine there are places inside 

where I can color it

____________

Pic: Max and Huck ready at the treat jar. We used to try to get them to ring the bell for service, but that didn't take.

a good reason to cry

Grief has a calendar. People have been telling me that it'll take a year at a minimum. And that other things like crying daily will change. I did not believe this to be possible, but it happened--I no longer cry every day. Even my weird nausea has mostly abated without medical assistance. I'm now in a new phase where it is "How have you been?" from someone I haven't seen in a while that makes me cry--because the last time I saw them, things were likely very different.

But this past week, I had a very good reason to cry. A non-binary elementary school music teacher was recently hired in the small rural school district to the north of us. Things were going well until there was the usual hate and outrage about kids needing to learn "non traditional pronouns" etc. At the public hearing, as a student relayed it, all this was shared in detail by two very vocal people. And then... over 70 teachers, students, parents, members of the community spoke up in support of the teacher. The school supervisor had always been supportive, but the Board could see in real time how much the community did not want to give in to hate. Here's something of a live report. I'm glad to have a "good" reason to cry.

Pic: Another amaryllis blooming: this is one I bought myself a couple of years ago from the $3 discount bin.

the three lessons

while I make myself legible to the world

my body, who has only one owner 

is learning to rebel 

someone holds the book, another gets to ask 

the question and I learn to answer 

without making things up

I am not a child, haven't been one for years

you teach me my past tense, I learn how

to bear being human 

________________________

Pic: Today's sunset along the Red Cedar. Late afternoon walk with Big A. 

public sightings

1) At the MFA student reading yesterday, I was reminded of the many things that are right in the world. Young people are creating poems and stories and journals to host other people's poems and stories and brave voices are finding themselves and amplifying other's voices (one poet read Renee Good's poem). I especially loved seeing old student CW's new work. 

2) JN took me to a drag show on Wednesday (I blew off grief group to go), and I met my first Drag King, Prince Marsallis. I love Prince, so the name in itself was a delight.

3) FYI, If I was out in public and you yelled out “pedophile protector” I would not think you were talking to me because I’m not a pedophile protector. I've decided that I'm going to use this to introduce interpellation in the Critical Theory class.

4) Aw! Someone tipped me off that on a new webpage titled "Best Decision Ever" that asks students why they love the college, a student had named me, saying,  "I’ve never met someone so passionate and caring for students."(I love my students and I'm glad they can tell.)

Pic: From the Jim Daniels reading last week. He's an alum of the college, taught here (before my time), gave the commencement speech at At's graduation, and teaches in the MFA program, but yesterday was the first time I was actually introduced to him. He then proceeded to talk my ear off (I didn't mind at all).

making my own sunshine

Wow the first weeks of 2026... I saw a meme where someone said they didn't like the "trial run" of 2026 and wanted a "refund." I concur. 

I expected a magical reset, but have found myself absolutely scuttled by... sadness? reality? the news? I don't even know anymore. But I miss my daily writing practice. If I'm going to be sad every day, could I at least not suffer from sameness?

Yesterday was Pongal, my favorite reset to the new year, but it was so grey and dreary, there wasn't even a glimpse of the sun. I guess I'll have to make my own sunshine this year. 

But here's last year's picture of a dancing Huck and a sonnet, plus the prep and lead up and the Pongal before that.  

Pic: Amaryllis (a gift from O.M.) blooming profusely and boldly like orbs in their own solar system.

still on this

I am so sad the last words she may have heard as she died were "Fuckin' Bitch." I wonder how many women have heard those very words because someone felt enraged that their perceived power wasn't being obeyed and deferred to.

Pic: Lansing protest in honor of Renee Nicole Good.