Monday, September 02, 2019

Labor Day/Boss Day


We had no plans for Labor Day, so armed with a hardcore DSA poster, an excellent batch of biriyani, an ironic floral/pastel mug meant for someone's grandma, and all the baby sibs, (who address him as "Nana" in the one word of Telugu they do know), we made the trip up to Alma for At's Boss Day. I love my babies. The babies will save us.





Sunday, September 01, 2019

Nine miles of pavement

alone but with thoughts and lyrics
the whistle and whoosh of traffic

I can imagine the uplift of impact
almost feel I might be able to fly

Saturday, August 31, 2019

Saturday at Alma




Spent this Saturday in retreat/orientation with the new MacCurdy women. We got some new furnishings and tees with the last of the budget last year, elected house officers, made plans for a year of programming, and started a statement to change "women's house" to "women-presenting and women-perceived." All in all, a rather busy two days. On to classes...









Nu came along to Alma for the day, and hung out with At helping make posters and eat pizza at his  DSA event...

Thursday, August 29, 2019

Unclear Condition

Morning is manic fog
milky, vanishing, slipping
under cereal, hugs,
reminders, lists,
all the things
we must bring

they are literal--Driving
the littlest human
to school and...
you know what?
they say...
that may be frost

just ponds of them
hanging out in the fields
with horses, ducks
the littlest human watches
my face cautiously
for a trace of panic

Fog flaps in the wind.
like blankets, begins to
put this year to bed. I
wonder where the sun will be
this time, next year--
and will we be here



Wednesday, August 28, 2019

Choices






If I focus on the sparkles set off by my new mobile and not the murky window behind it, perchance I'll get through this term brilliantly?

#Self-bribery #StartOfClasses






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Tuesday, August 27, 2019

Big A and Bebes





Our new term-time normal, I guess.


The show-off-y corn behind Big A is his too. 









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if meaning is made of anything

the air feels full of florid messages  from the future every black pebble I gather whispers reminders for later  how easily your attention s...