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.

summer sanctuary

I met just one writing deadline (of three) on Sunday and I have a CASA report due tomorrow. Like Lawrence Kasdan says, "being a writer is like having homework for the rest of your life." I have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing the best I can. 

In the meantime, Big A keeps reminding me that it's summer. 

And Nu sweetly offered to go on a walk with me so I could talk through the knot in a writing project. We haven't gone yet... But I was so touched by their offer, which is exactly what I myself might have offered up to Nu or a student in a similar predicament.

Pic: Max insisting we take a break outside. I'm just so grateful for my patch of green, blue skies, a silly puppy, and time and health to enjoy them all.

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.

some summer enchantment

All my deadlines are tomorrow... But today, I got to celebrate BOL's name change with a wonderful party. We had it indoors since it threatened rain, but we went outside for the cake.

Oh, that cake! When Nu and I were brainstorming the party with BOL, they said they wanted the unicorn themed party they didn't have when they were five. With that mission statement, it was so easy to make a celebration that evoked the sense of possibility and magic that comes with BOL.

Pic: BOL with their unicorn cake; not pictured the guests who were my "bubble factory" adding an extra bit of magic to this picture.

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

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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.