Sunday, November 24, 2013
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Take that, Goldieblox!
Read this article at Shakespeare's Sister if you want a respectful, comprehensive read about why Goldieblox is more of the same old in new pinkified packaging. The comments are wonderful too!
And in that spirit, here's something the kids 6 (F) and 14 (M) made this morning.
And in that spirit, here's something the kids 6 (F) and 14 (M) made this morning.
At (L); Nu (R)
_
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Briefly
Skipping from fire to fear
the colors beyond mathematics
From innocence to indifference
telluric, ludic, dead like this
_
the colors beyond mathematics
From innocence to indifference
telluric, ludic, dead like this
_
Sunday, November 17, 2013
A Kind of Rhythm
Highrise
Skyscrapers thrust through my heart
hope rising floor
by floor
Freefall
Then an ocean, breaking every day
retreat, put myself
back together
_
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Friday, November 15, 2013
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Knowing What to Say
Do you choke on the cold
let it cut you open
Do you use love
as a lasso
Romance experience
Experience romance
I build it
by taking it apart
smothered bruised
and seething like music
_
let it cut you open
Do you use love
as a lasso
Romance experience
Experience romance
I build it
by taking it apart
smothered bruised
and seething like music
_
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Prayer in the Storm
Today is
an avalanche
The night is
upset desert
packed light
snack light
Bring
morning
Sing
morning
by light
or not night
_
Monday, November 11, 2013
Improvising
My heart operates on battery.
Yes, you can read it two ways;
neither of them will make sense.
Somedays, you are my soul and
it's your ear I want to hug most.
(A testament--not much better.)
Although, your hands--do save me.
Sometimes their higher purpose is
to idly hold my tired, dripping face.
Many thousand feet above us, perhaps
stars dance ever slowly, unconcerned
their void filled with winking emoticons.
_
Yes, you can read it two ways;
neither of them will make sense.
Somedays, you are my soul and
it's your ear I want to hug most.
(A testament--not much better.)
Although, your hands--do save me.
Sometimes their higher purpose is
to idly hold my tired, dripping face.
Many thousand feet above us, perhaps
stars dance ever slowly, unconcerned
their void filled with winking emoticons.
_
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Lest I Forget
I don't speak to our dead everyday
even today, I'm just... just listening.
Listening for the way they whistle.
Mostly the dead never disappear
I can sweep up the dust and papers
and know they never appear either
Still the weight of their stare lingers
on my eyes, in smiles, the limit where
my breath slices my lungs like apples
And my freedom, this pulse I carry.
I close my eyes, every time the last
Holding in glances, instead of arms
_
even today, I'm just... just listening.
Listening for the way they whistle.
Mostly the dead never disappear
I can sweep up the dust and papers
and know they never appear either
Still the weight of their stare lingers
on my eyes, in smiles, the limit where
my breath slices my lungs like apples
And my freedom, this pulse I carry.
I close my eyes, every time the last
Holding in glances, instead of arms
_
Saturday, November 09, 2013
Friday, November 08, 2013
Monday, November 04, 2013
Location
Turning the stars with spatula arms
skies spill stars and mosquitoes
thunder like sprays of flowers
like dead deer, typewriters
hinting like a children's book
foretelling surprises, defeats.
Darkness is the little treat
lying in the womb
I wonder what it means
to share: I'm here
Yet know it means
something to you
in the slow interior
of your mood
skies spill stars and mosquitoes
thunder like sprays of flowers
like dead deer, typewriters
hinting like a children's book
foretelling surprises, defeats.
Darkness is the little treat
lying in the womb
I wonder what it means
to share: I'm here
Yet know it means
something to you
in the slow interior
of your mood
Sunday, November 03, 2013
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
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ordinary magic
all my winged things: birds, words always seem to happen only in momentous mystery their maps ghostly with emptiness layered on unknown and ...
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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...