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).