Saturday, November 02, 2013
Friday, November 01, 2013
Home truths
Have been binge-watching Homeland over the past two days--but only because of a cold that ironically relieved me from having to obsess about writing and grading that needs to be done.
Four home truths of importance to no one but me:
Four home truths of importance to no one but me:
- Binge-watching is the only way A and I have ever watched the show.
- And almost as frequently we're falling asleep or talking and losing track. But we've never rewound any episode. Invariably, we're like "Eh--we'll figure it out in the recap of the next episode."
- Carrie's bipolarity almost makes it difficult to watch because it feels so intrusive--kinda of meta considering she's CIA and the stuff about the NSA and our private lives and all of that.
- But if I'm being completely honest, the main reason I like the show is because it gives me a chance to hear A's moniker for the Brody character--"Ginger Bin Laden." It's not particularly clever, but to hear the ginger-haired A say it in his scoffingly supercilious tone makes me giggle like I'm in middle school every single time.
_
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Boo! (Or, My Boos)
Posing (in order of height):
A little vampire,
Louis from Left for Dead,
and a guest--Glitterstim from Star Wars.
Not Posing:
all of the above +
Scout as a medieval jouster's trusty steed.
(That puppy just loves his big brother.)
_
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Safekeeping
Our paired vows
are ever air, unclear
folded in English
prickling with desire
shouting loud of love
candidates for fights
we know no one wins
entranced--not thinking at all.
But all day gather every thing
and thought, even ones tiny as almonds
and bittersweet, for the hell of it
to share after you've brushed
your teeth to shining at 3 a.m.
and our wishes surge huge
flapping around us, fly us
frail, beautiful with sleep.
_
are ever air, unclear
folded in English
prickling with desire
shouting loud of love
candidates for fights
we know no one wins
entranced--not thinking at all.
and thought, even ones tiny as almonds
and bittersweet, for the hell of it
to share after you've brushed
your teeth to shining at 3 a.m.
and our wishes surge huge
flapping around us, fly us
frail, beautiful with sleep.
_
Monday, October 28, 2013
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Fear
Because of my insistence on
making monsters in the dark
they grow strong enough
to come for me in daylight
Their laughter running
bloody around the room
as I run around
chewing through ropes
that are all mine, mine.
Even light is useless
and the small blessings
bearing cacti like cake
I must survive
in wasting life
in the after life
_
making monsters in the dark
they grow strong enough
to come for me in daylight
Their laughter running
bloody around the room
as I run around
chewing through ropes
that are all mine, mine.
Even light is useless
and the small blessings
bearing cacti like cake
I must survive
in wasting life
in the after life
_
Friday, October 25, 2013
Repentance
today's possibilities halve
carved by rain
cities are divided by winter
wondering, stoic
the grass hardens to ice
without answers
the crash--it is coming
ornate and faithless
won't stop until it explodes,
blooming like day
_
carved by rain
cities are divided by winter
wondering, stoic
the grass hardens to ice
without answers
the crash--it is coming
ornate and faithless
won't stop until it explodes,
blooming like day
_
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
In which I discover that I am a good Hindu girl after all...
I'm absent-mindedly humming along to the new mumbly masterpiece by Kings of Leon in the car.
And also: smiling.
At looks slightly horrified and asks me, "You know it's about suicide, right?"
What? Wait; you mean they're not talking about taking one in the temple... Oh.
_
And also: smiling.
At looks slightly horrified and asks me, "You know it's about suicide, right?"
What? Wait; you mean they're not talking about taking one in the temple... Oh.
_
Monday, October 21, 2013
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Helping me get... Helpy
Not sure what's going on,
but yesterday, after making dinner
I just didn't have any more energy
So the kids put me to bed.
And then Scout sat on my feet
--To make sure I don't get up?
To fart on my feet for warmth?
So no one would wake me up?
And that reminded me
when Little A was little
and would say "Helpy"
when he meant "healthy."
_
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Of Commutes
Our trees will soon be bones
snow-bleached death
their camouflage ripens
place, time
in the trenches of autumn
stars rent the sky
the monotony of brilliance
of looking away
_
snow-bleached death
their camouflage ripens
place, time
in the trenches of autumn
stars rent the sky
the monotony of brilliance
of looking away
_
Monday, October 14, 2013
Monday/Vijaya Dashami
sleeping, dreaming of sleep
I'm a tidy lady of the rain
I'm a tidy lady of the rain
humming like a flower
to the bees
in the hive of my eyes,
bloodshot as rubies
a vision belabors
free of gravity
-
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Tuesday, October 08, 2013
Monday, October 07, 2013
In Other Are You F*&^%ing Effing With Me News
I know you must feel terrible. I know I do every single day I drop my kids off at school. But Newtown people, it doesn't make any sense to raze your elementary school so another elementary school can be built on the same site.
Over and over again at the link, the rhetoric is so that "we can bring our children home." I'm sorry. I'm sorry about it every day, but those children cannot come home.
Can you not use your resources on public health and education services instead and show the rest of us how to deal with and prevent those tragedies from happening?
_
Over and over again at the link, the rhetoric is so that "we can bring our children home." I'm sorry. I'm sorry about it every day, but those children cannot come home.
Can you not use your resources on public health and education services instead and show the rest of us how to deal with and prevent those tragedies from happening?
_
Sunday, October 06, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Obviously this is a circumzenithal arc
Or at least that's what showed up
when I assiduously googled
Taken on our evening walk by Nu.
It's caused by ice-crystals
in the atmosphere. Ulp.
_
Monday, September 16, 2013
It's Gotten Dark
It's nearing the end of September and I should have expected it. But I'm surprised by how dark it's gotten.
Also, it's Monday.
But I'm going to blame everything on how dark it's gotten.
It's why I needed to leave the door open to get dressed this morning and it shone on A's face in bed and he yelled at me and I yelled back and said his sleeping schedule was dysfunctional.
And the kids were still eating breakfast after I'd unloaded the dishwasher, made beds, made lunches, made eggs, tidied, got dressed (and yelled at) and I was mad.
And when I got to work, my Chair was in early and wanted to have a conversation with me. And the thing she wanted to talk about was awkward at first and then painful (for me).
And I worked obsessively in my windowless office for eight hours. About four hours in, I realized I was wearing blue paisley and gray, which is alright in theory, but was awful in the light.
Things got better once I got to the gas station: (a) made it just before the needle turned to empty (b) a red car pulled up beside me (c) the driver waved at me (d) after one too many seconds, I realized it was Big A (e) ended up smiling back at him (f) he pumped my gas (g) gave me a hug (h) I told him about my horrible work conversation (i) got hugged again (j) He took the grocery list off me.
And I got to go home and wheedle I-had-a-bad-day hugs from kids.
And they ate grilled cheese their dad made.
And I was excused from the "Poo-lympics" (picking up all the doggie poop in the grass).
I still have to work every waking minute on the thing my Chair talked about for the foreseeable future.
Unless there's an apocalypse.
_
Also, it's Monday.
But I'm going to blame everything on how dark it's gotten.
It's why I needed to leave the door open to get dressed this morning and it shone on A's face in bed and he yelled at me and I yelled back and said his sleeping schedule was dysfunctional.
And the kids were still eating breakfast after I'd unloaded the dishwasher, made beds, made lunches, made eggs, tidied, got dressed (and yelled at) and I was mad.
And when I got to work, my Chair was in early and wanted to have a conversation with me. And the thing she wanted to talk about was awkward at first and then painful (for me).
And I worked obsessively in my windowless office for eight hours. About four hours in, I realized I was wearing blue paisley and gray, which is alright in theory, but was awful in the light.
Things got better once I got to the gas station: (a) made it just before the needle turned to empty (b) a red car pulled up beside me (c) the driver waved at me (d) after one too many seconds, I realized it was Big A (e) ended up smiling back at him (f) he pumped my gas (g) gave me a hug (h) I told him about my horrible work conversation (i) got hugged again (j) He took the grocery list off me.
And I got to go home and wheedle I-had-a-bad-day hugs from kids.
And they ate grilled cheese their dad made.
And I was excused from the "Poo-lympics" (picking up all the doggie poop in the grass).
I still have to work every waking minute on the thing my Chair talked about for the foreseeable future.
Unless there's an apocalypse.
_
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Nuts
The oldest one is playing
(saxophone) at an away game.
the littler ones spend the day
jabbering, "joking,"
jabbering some more,
making up crazy games,
(one of which requires us
to draw someone she's thinking of).
When I tell him, At smirks and asks,
"Do you appreciate me now?"
Always do; always have.
Always will.
_
Friday, September 13, 2013
Gathering
In some evolved vegan way
these plants might be animal;
the undersides of their leaves--
pale and vulnerable underbellies,
the amused puckering of the spines
then the bright stare of their stamen.
I search for the taut bright,
the ovoid shapes that nest
amongst roots, soil, leaves.
Each tomato's jewel-red slope
finds the curve of my warm palm,
believes that it wants to come home.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Manifesto
We'll have to tell all our small, silly jokes
to save us one final time and well.
And fight the sour syllables of silence
friends at the bottom of the well.
Smile--like thoughts gods had briefly
fall on our knees, count seasons.
The road spreads fluorescent
of course, we repeat in patient panic
reasons fistful by fistful;
thoughts dazzling out of our heads.
to save us one final time and well.
And fight the sour syllables of silence
friends at the bottom of the well.
Smile--like thoughts gods had briefly
fall on our knees, count seasons.
The road spreads fluorescent
of course, we repeat in patient panic
reasons fistful by fistful;
thoughts dazzling out of our heads.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Re-Homing Children
How incredibly dangerous it is to be a child.
This Reuters investigative report about "re-homing" adopted children with no oversight via law enforcement or child welfare agencies is frightening, bleak, and fucking... breaks... my... heart.
_
_
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Tic-Tac-Toe
I mistake the day for nothing
Moments are like prayer,
Memory still muttering.
All words shimmer earnest,
fall underfoot where children
rush and stomp, play, find fun.
Daylight peels itself slowly
from windows and eyes
someone I know says, "hug,"
someone else says "love"
I breathe as though
for someone far; CPR
I am a daughter of dread
my self-conscious prayers rise
like the breath of those dead.
_
Monday, September 09, 2013
NuNu Love
7:30. After I packed everyone's lunches,
I rushed to get changed for school.
In the time it took me to change,
she slipped her smiley "I heart you"
into my lunchbox.
When I got home at 4:30, she grabbed me
asking, "Did you find it? Did you see it?"
She said she kept giggling at school
thinking about that note to me.
Me too.
_
Friday, September 06, 2013
Wednesday, September 04, 2013
Tuesday, September 03, 2013
Amanda, Michelle, Gina
They're saying the man who kept the three girls imprisoned in Cleveland committed suicide. I wonder if after being imprisoned himself, he realized what a horrible thing he'd done and offed himself out of remorse.
Far away from everything related, even I have nightmares about the whole thing. In one, I was crouched on the floor at the grocery store for something on a low shelf and overheard someone calculating aloud how big a cage to contain me would have to be.
If the nightmares ever subside, I'll get to smile at my friend J Castro's disgusted FB update when the news broke: "After years of being asked if I was related to Fidel, now this."
Yes; I was in Cleveland over the weekend. No; I had nothing to do with it.
God.
_
Far away from everything related, even I have nightmares about the whole thing. In one, I was crouched on the floor at the grocery store for something on a low shelf and overheard someone calculating aloud how big a cage to contain me would have to be.
If the nightmares ever subside, I'll get to smile at my friend J Castro's disgusted FB update when the news broke: "After years of being asked if I was related to Fidel, now this."
Yes; I was in Cleveland over the weekend. No; I had nothing to do with it.
God.
_
Monday, September 02, 2013
Sunday, September 01, 2013
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Thursday, August 01, 2013
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Friday, July 26, 2013
Friday, July 19, 2013
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
(I need a) Smile
At blogged about this a long time ago.
He titled it Paul Simon Enjoys Subs:
(In case you can't read it, it says:
"The words of the prophets are written on the Subway (sic) walls."
So meta.)
Monday, July 15, 2013
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Anyone's Son
Anyone's Son
by Tara Skurtu
by Tara Skurtu
--for the family of Trayvon Martin
This poem wants to write itself backwards.
Wishes it were born memory instead, skipping
Wishes it were born memory instead, skipping
time like a record needle stuck on the line
of your last second. You sit up. Brush not blood,
of your last second. You sit up. Brush not blood,
but dirt from your chest. You sit up. You're in bed.
Bad dream. Back to sleep. You sit up. Rise and shine.
Bad dream. Back to sleep. You sit up. Rise and shine.
Good morning. This is the poem of a people united
in the uniform of your last day. Pockets full
in the uniform of your last day. Pockets full
of candy, hooded sweatshirt, sweet tea. This poem
wants to stand its ground, silence force
wants to stand its ground, silence force
with simple words, pray you alive, anyone's
son—tall boy, eye-smile, walk on home.
son—tall boy, eye-smile, walk on home.
_
Friday, July 12, 2013
Thursday, July 11, 2013
About Justice
From Angry Black Bitch, a poetic, impassioned, and Homi Bhabha-like meditation on "rage face" and privilege.
_
Which brings me back to Rage Face with that shotgun…and his outrage over the very thought of someone taking his gun…and the thousands upon thousands of folks who think he did a great thing because they share his outrage.
His outrage that someone may take his gun.
May take someone’s son.
Could take his gun.
Could take someone’s son.
Are thinking about taking his gun.
Are thinking about taking someone’s son.
In a country where some can load a shotgun two blocks from the Capitol without comment while others get shot for the crime of walking home after buying snacks.
_
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
O.K. Camp
A couple of weeks ago, the kids were finally at the eco-camps they'd been talking about for about two months. It was kind of a big deal/special year since it was going to be the last year At (14) could go before he aged out and the first time Nu (5) would be old enough to go.
They had a nice beginning to the week, bumping into each other in the cafe, being assigned as buddies (completely randomly, per Nu ;), and then midweek this happened.
I'm mostly okay with it. Because unlike the nightmares I've had since Newtown, this one case--this one very special case involving my very own children--seemed to have ended well: there was a gunman around the kids; no one got hurt. If we can't prevent men with guns showing up at kids' schools and camps, this should be the way it always ends.
Or the gunmen can be totally imaginary--I'm okay with that too; I could sleep through that.
_
They had a nice beginning to the week, bumping into each other in the cafe, being assigned as buddies (completely randomly, per Nu ;), and then midweek this happened.
On Thursday, deputies, law enforcement officers and a K-9 unit from several area agencies searched the park, the Glen Helen Education Center on State Route 343 and neighboring areas, sheriff’s Maj. Eric Spicer said. The 1,000-acre nature preserve is an entity of the college, located adjacent to the campus.The gunman was spotted near the Outdoor Education Center at Glen Helen at about 11:30 a.m. According to a witness there, the man approached a dorm and when a counselor asked him to leave, the man displayed a gun.“He more or less implied and made a menacing statement to them,” Spicer said.It turns out now that the college-aged counsellor had made the whole thing up. And everyone's angry because it was horrifying and also what a waste of tax-payer resource$, etc, etc.
I'm mostly okay with it. Because unlike the nightmares I've had since Newtown, this one case--this one very special case involving my very own children--seemed to have ended well: there was a gunman around the kids; no one got hurt. If we can't prevent men with guns showing up at kids' schools and camps, this should be the way it always ends.
Or the gunmen can be totally imaginary--I'm okay with that too; I could sleep through that.
_
Tuesday, July 09, 2013
Individual
Oftentimes,
there are four of us
each one abandoned
in this small, hot town
And usually,
the night is so thick
I automatically begin
waving words in the air
Shuffling them
sorting, pantomiming
their sad, wandering odds
until they fall away, decay...
-
there are four of us
each one abandoned
in this small, hot town
And usually,
the night is so thick
I automatically begin
waving words in the air
Shuffling them
sorting, pantomiming
their sad, wandering odds
until they fall away, decay...
-
Monday, July 08, 2013
Sunrise
The twentieth goose is lucky
lit against the velvet moss
that cushions under-river
from summer's rain of light
*
The meticulous discipline
of my rising heartbeat
nuzzles bright and attentive,
guides dust and goslings
*
To a paraphrase of the sun
one day, ruined, diurnal--
winging an elegy for those
who die without signature
_
lit against the velvet moss
that cushions under-river
from summer's rain of light
*
The meticulous discipline
of my rising heartbeat
nuzzles bright and attentive,
guides dust and goslings
*
To a paraphrase of the sun
one day, ruined, diurnal--
winging an elegy for those
who die without signature
_
Sunday, July 07, 2013
Ain't Nothing but a Bee Sting
Have you ever filled a rubber glove with liquid until it distended to a point where it kinda looked like a cow's udder?
Like this:
Like this:
Okay, then.
That's how my right hand looks now, only patchier and purpley-er. I've been stung by bees before, so I don't know why my body's over reacting this time. I started taking ibuprofen this morning after being assured by Big A that no one would think I was being a wuss about pain and that it would actually help with the inflammation.
And then, in the middle of conversation that encompassed my puffy hand and the corn puffs I was eating in bed, he called me "Puffy" instead of "Puppy." Oi.
_
Saturday, July 06, 2013
Déjà vu / Rétrospective
I remember sitting in an undergraduate poetry class, not really paying attention, wondering if my acceptance and scholarship letters would come that day, watching the treetops rearing and bucking into the wind and thinking my happiness would be as elemental as theirs.
Of course, there's this:
--
Of course, there's this:
Coloniality continues, in fact, whenever bright young men and women from all over the world decide to cap off their educations by going on pilgrimage to pinnacles of Western civilization; when they dedicate themselves to the Western canon and walk in the shadows of gothic cathedrals and imperial facades, and learn that this is the good life.
It continues whenever anyone anywhere in the world walks down a street and sees a billboard on the modern cathedral that is a shopping mall, and sees in that conjunction of power, wealth, and beauty an image of desire. In other words, it happens these days not by the strength of arms or the power of states, but by the captivation of the eyes, the training of the taste, by unwritten rules of thumb – that we all learn everywhere, without even knowing it. Coloniality is far from over: it is all over. It is perhaps the most powerful set of forces in the modern world.
--
Friday, July 05, 2013
Thursday, July 04, 2013
Wednesday, July 03, 2013
Tuesday, July 02, 2013
Snapshots
A wheeling wave
the kids are drenched
swallowing hot, sweaty prayers
Rick teaches them trees
Son of a...? (beech)
We chuckle and shake our heads
At night amidst snores
we count as silence,
diagnose the radiating bloom of calm
__
the kids are drenched
swallowing hot, sweaty prayers
Rick teaches them trees
Son of a...? (beech)
We chuckle and shake our heads
At night amidst snores
we count as silence,
diagnose the radiating bloom of calm
__
Monday, July 01, 2013
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Points of the Day
My arms reach across the city
the season of flying
the body travels
Water is a ghost, is everywhere
says the cloud always distant
or dying tragically
The puppy's sighs in the dark
like restless, sweaty prayers
hypnotized and alive
_
Monday, June 17, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Saturday, June 08, 2013
Friday, June 07, 2013
99 Problems... but
Big A is a great feminist partner. He understands my compulsion to make terms as neutral as possible, especially around the children.
One of my early conversations with him (with most people, probably--I'm annoying like that) is the use of terms like "wife" and "husband" and the gendered expectations they set up. How to be a good wife engenders very different responses (usually) from how to be a good husband. I prefer the idea of being a good partner, a good spouse.
I think it says so much about Big A that he took the irritating (because somewhat infantilizing, dismissive) slogan "Happy wife; happy life" and fixed it. We say, "Happy spouse; happy house."
All this is to establish that Big A was not going to use the word "bitch" in front of the kids at dinner (or ever) when he started off riffing on the Ice-T/Jay-Z line. I wonder what he was going to say. Because this is what happened:
__
One of my early conversations with him (with most people, probably--I'm annoying like that) is the use of terms like "wife" and "husband" and the gendered expectations they set up. How to be a good wife engenders very different responses (usually) from how to be a good husband. I prefer the idea of being a good partner, a good spouse.
I think it says so much about Big A that he took the irritating (because somewhat infantilizing, dismissive) slogan "Happy wife; happy life" and fixed it. We say, "Happy spouse; happy house."
All this is to establish that Big A was not going to use the word "bitch" in front of the kids at dinner (or ever) when he started off riffing on the Ice-T/Jay-Z line. I wonder what he was going to say. Because this is what happened:
Big A: I got 99 problems, but...
Nu: (Interjecting) That's a lot!
Stares at her family as they collapse in laughter.
Fin.
__
Thursday, June 06, 2013
Bob Fletcher Dies at 101; Helped Japanese-Americans (NYT Obit)
How can I not assume that you lived a great life if you die when your numbers need to be counted in three digits and the word "helped" is used to describe you.
Love and gratitude, Mr. Fletcher.
_
Love and gratitude, Mr. Fletcher.
_
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Disentanglement
Pompeii, Bombay
It doesn’t matter.
Words once chosen
are places --
I have to go
I can hear all the days coming
and kindnesses to make me cry:
certainties, pinpricks
leprous as promises,
as remembering why
Life is short, redundant, an antidote
From every place: unfold borders,
escape. I know. I know that
loss slows, quickens,
and goes
_
Monday, May 13, 2013
Fanfare
The mouth’s empty cave
Platonic, muscled with truth
Where worry about tickets,
arguments, agreements, tokens
the children are singing anyway
the birds are singing anyway
worlds and words twist just so
the pollen drops careless as scabs
the calm hugs from everyone
their pity spectacular and partial as
discontent dished up at supermarkets
common as sunshine now--and weeping
_
Wednesday, May 08, 2013
Tales
I've been gone.
Sorry.
These days turn
churn and hurry.
Mornings burn
through fog
stumbling out to pee
(Scout, not me)
Breakfast is just
Cheerios, eggs, vitamin pills
and still takes two kids a total of 80+ minutes to eat
the puppy hoovers everything that's dropped
but eats nothing from his untouched bowl
I give him treats so he can keep growing
I know I'm an irresponsible "dog caregiver."
(It doesn't help anything that I've taken to referring to myself as "mama.")
I steal glimpses of the city as I drop the kids off
I wear my work clothes as a harness
so I'll get to work
(and leave the puppy in his little gated room for at least a few hours)
all alone :/.
And it's not really a room,
just the entryway,
but it's bright and airy,
and nicer than a crate.
And every time I get home he's quiet and fast asleep
but skooched as close
as he can to the gate
and the latch where my hand lingered last* (pictorial footnote below)
He doesn't like his leash and is constantly trying to bite through it
so he mostly runs around without one
so when we're outside I'm doing a lot of puppy carrying
--away from the mellow (bigger) dogs across the street
(who are the enemy--at least according to our young whippersnapper)
and also, he likes to run into the river.
We need a fence to keep him safe
and more cash to make that happen.
I thought Scout was going to sleep by himself at night
so I could get sometime when I wasn't being constantly adored me time
yet he ends up in our bedroom every night
because he just sleeps better that way
(otherwise, he feels abandoned?
or may be he's afraid of the dark?)
TL; DR: The puppy's kind of taking over my life
_
* pictorial footnote
Sorry.
These days turn
churn and hurry.
Mornings burn
through fog
stumbling out to pee
(Scout, not me)
Breakfast is just
Cheerios, eggs, vitamin pills
and still takes two kids a total of 80+ minutes to eat
the puppy hoovers everything that's dropped
but eats nothing from his untouched bowl
I give him treats so he can keep growing
I know I'm an irresponsible "dog caregiver."
(It doesn't help anything that I've taken to referring to myself as "mama.")
I steal glimpses of the city as I drop the kids off
I wear my work clothes as a harness
so I'll get to work
(and leave the puppy in his little gated room for at least a few hours)
all alone :/.
And it's not really a room,
just the entryway,
but it's bright and airy,
and nicer than a crate.
And every time I get home he's quiet and fast asleep
but skooched as close
as he can to the gate
and the latch where my hand lingered last* (pictorial footnote below)
He doesn't like his leash and is constantly trying to bite through it
so he mostly runs around without one
so when we're outside I'm doing a lot of puppy carrying
--away from the mellow (bigger) dogs across the street
(who are the enemy--at least according to our young whippersnapper)
and also, he likes to run into the river.
We need a fence to keep him safe
and more cash to make that happen.
I thought Scout was going to sleep by himself at night
so I could get some
yet he ends up in our bedroom every night
because he just sleeps better that way
(otherwise, he feels abandoned?
or may be he's afraid of the dark?)
TL; DR: The puppy's kind of taking over my life
_
* pictorial footnote
I took this picture through the front door
--and perhaps that explains the beautifully surreal reflection on the closet door.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
On the third day of puppy...
There was a lot of this
and this
and this
and then antibiotics for bronchitis from the Pet E.R.
(Where embarrassingly for both of us, a student who hadn't turned in her draft of the term paper yet works on the weekends--it felt like weird professor stalkery--Where *is* your paper? *When* will you turn in in?)
_
and this
and this
and then antibiotics for bronchitis from the Pet E.R.
(Where embarrassingly for both of us, a student who hadn't turned in her draft of the term paper yet works on the weekends--it felt like weird professor stalkery--Where *is* your paper? *When* will you turn in in?)
_
Sunday, April 07, 2013
For Amma
Mother, my diameter
I am yours, your radius.
Gambling into leaf too early
the crocuses are betrayed
frayed on drifts of winter,
sleet, and no daisies
at our feet
Bound to you. Only you.
But found by everyone.
_
I am yours, your radius.
Gambling into leaf too early
the crocuses are betrayed
frayed on drifts of winter,
sleet, and no daisies
at our feet
All weekend long,
Toronto's lonely songs
their Omni and just me
the same Hindi movies
this time I see alone
Bound to you. Only you.
But found by everyone.
_
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
This is how...
I need to put this out there, to counteract Diaz's somewhat simpering performance on The Colbert Report this week, and remember that he's a MacArthur my kind of genius.
(From Diaz's Twitter feed in November 2012
http://twitter.com/JunotDiazDaily/status/268774844273934336)
_
Thursday, March 28, 2013
High
The memory of a plane
crawling before flight
the tires tearing grief
a captured sigh of air
the first possibilities
of the night-mare are
gold-tipped at dusk
needy as a pilgrimage
I follow legs of furniture
to the crotches of trees
light bleeding from clouds
coming down, bringing it all down
___
Perhaps it is true. Yesterday, a student blamed his dream--of a gray mold that crawled up his toothbrush--on the Gabriel Garcia Marquez we've been reading in class...
_
crawling before flight
the tires tearing grief
a captured sigh of air
the first possibilities
of the night-mare are
gold-tipped at dusk
needy as a pilgrimage
I follow legs of furniture
to the crotches of trees
light bleeding from clouds
coming down, bringing it all down
___
Perhaps it is true. Yesterday, a student blamed his dream--of a gray mold that crawled up his toothbrush--on the Gabriel Garcia Marquez we've been reading in class...
_
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
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standing in beauty
I saw the most amazing early morning skies over the Maple River as I headed to work today, and had a feeling it would be the harbinger of a ...
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Friends and old neighbors shutting it down in honor of John Crawford. _
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I have the feeling that I’m going to succumb to the season and put out a list of resolutions soon. Just wanted to establish this heads up th...
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At had us pose for this pic up at Aunt R's place on Lake Huron so he could put it up in his dorm. "Don't tur...