in time

a body rises like an ocean 
willing like magic
identity shifts and orbits
--another trick

a star/stare, what will it mean
to you, to me

if only it could move a prayer
to open actuality

time cheats, you know how
we try to scribble it
here we are; there we go--
still hurt, counterfeit

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

At (in Michigan) and my sister (in Bangalore) both received their vaccination #1 today; yay!

Daffodils Etc.

It's spring in England, and my mother visits,

she is Seeing England for the First Time

and there is her readiness in colonial desire 

like urgent rain--where squandered things 

find great reception. Electronic billboards! 

Gargoyles in Oxford! Museums are free!

Hunger satisfies easy when you're eager.

Until one day at the grocery checkout she sees

daffodils--papery, plastic-wrapped, "solitary"

not a "never-ending line," "dancing," or "gay."

And Amma--at least a third-generation learner 

of Wordsworth's praise--is first silent in disdain,

her outstretched words rebound as if swindled:

"This? This is what he made such a fuss about?"

In her contempt, I hear comparisons--to the

languor of unkempt jasmine, lotus, plumeria... 

the warm, unlocked softnesses of oleanders, 

parijaths, ixoras... In her derision there hides 

history's list of pain, the sharp bite of the ruler 

when she didn't say English words correctly 

so just know that you are disappointing too

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

I first wrote about Amma's reaction here--so many years ago.

Picture is from Daffodil Hill at the Radiology Gardens earlier this week; they seem to have been bigger this time last year?

Bigotry Farm

I haven't been able to find the name of this farm on 127N, but I've been calling it "Bigotry Farm" in my head for ages.

Seeing those signs on my way to work gives me anxiety every time. Seeing the progression of misogyny from L to R sometimes gives me a chuckle--sometimes. The flashing sign with bonkers messages makes me sad/angry/sob.

People know what I mean when I mention this place, but I wasn't able to find a good shot of the signs, so I pulled over and took this one.

I could use this in a rhetoric class?

Everywhere a rainbow

Today: 

Listened to an interview with Rachel Crandall Crocker who founded the International Transgender Day of Visibility; 

hmm-ed on the repeal on the ban on trans troops; 

made a note to call the adolescent gender clinic at the U of M.

[Pic Baker Woods with L.]

Of pens and pizza and other not so little things

Barely the beginning of the week, and I'm already so exhausted... I think we're all way more burnt out than we realize.

Before I left for home, however--a personal visit, a handwritten note of congratulations, and a luxe pen from the college. Somehow they even managed to engrave my very long, doubly hyphenated name on it. 

Somedays, it's the not-so-little things and immense kindness that do me in. 

And then Big A's pizza for dinner. It's impossible to not feel so loved when I see one of the pies on the table is the goat cheese, spinach, and slices of hard-boiled egg one. Probably sounds awful to most people--I'm the only one who eats it, so it was made just for me.

An Early Spring

L says the trees are wading into the water

and they are

the flood comes and goes without us seeing

how it does

we have few cues, shivering when we want 

when-ever

feeling a bit skinless, thinking that's not it

no, not it

we have watched our friends say goodbye

but saw

only their backs, so who it was that waved

we won't know. 

But a pattern of plummeting birds now coats 

our skin 

making us a festival of play and shining and

wildness--

jubilee and jamboree and carnival and revelry

every where

A festivity so full of possibilities, children

just listen

the communion now begins--a bit uncertain 

in origin

speaking to you from over there... not there

...there!

getting by

I was thinking a lot about neighbors after I saw those two nests side-by-side yesterday, and the weekend was quite neighborly...

This egg carton had gone to MR along with the rest of the stack I'd saved for them, and it came back to me with this absolutely beautiful set of eggs from their girls.

Then the alchemy of cooking turned some of those eggs into this garden frittata with the asparagus and cherry tomatoes LB gave me (if you squint, my frittata kind of looks like a patch of blooms?) and a portion of it went on to BS and CL for their dinner...

I didn't get to kick back and reread Enid Blyton/Mary Stewart or rewatch an episode of Felicity to self-soothe like I wanted... but OTOH, I don't have that sickly feeling of being behind on stuff. 

And I got lots of chatting in with the Bangalore bunch and the cousins and some quality couch time with Nu, Scout, Huck, and Big A and a nice dinner-time FaceTime with At.

So... a fair weekend even if not a freaking fantastic one.