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 that asked students why they love the college, a student had named me, saying  "I’ve never met someone so passionate and caring for students."

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).

making my own sunshine

Wow the first weeks of 2026... I saw a meme where someone said they didn't like the "trial run" of 2026 and wanted a "refund." I concur. 

I expected a magical reset, but have found myself absolutely scuttled by... sadness? reality? the news? I don't even know anymore. But I miss my daily writing practice. If I'm going to be sad every day, could I at least not suffer from sameness?

Yesterday was Pongal, my favorite reset to the new year, but it was so grey and dreary, there wasn't even a glimpse of the sun. I guess I'll have to make my own sunshine this year. 

But here's last year's picture of a dancing Huck and a sonnet, plus the prep and lead up and the Pongal before that.  

Pic: Amaryllis (a gift from O.M.) blooming profusely and boldly like orbs in their own solar system.

still on this

I am so sad the last words she may have heard as she died were "Fuckin' Bitch." I wonder how many women have heard those very words because someone felt enraged that their perceived power wasn't being obeyed and deferred to.

Pic: Lansing protest in honor of Renee Nicole Good. 

Her name was Good

Today was a day... especially for checking up on my Minneapolis people. It has been so heavy lately. There was the middle-of-the night shooting of Rep. Hortman, her spouse, and Gilbert and then the daytime Annunciation school shooting. This morning on a residential street, ICE randomly shot 37-year-old Renee Nicole Good in the head and did not allow her any medical assistance (they threatened the physician who offered to provide medical assistance with a gun); she died. What are you supposed to do when masked goons with no ID surround your car? If they're shooting white people now, the fascism has really escalated. 

She was a human being. She was there as an observer. She was innocent (if that matters). She was a citizen (if that matters). She was a parent. Her six-year-old's father died in 2023, so this child is truly orphaned. 

Renee Nicole (Macklin) Good was a poet. She won a prize for this poem. 

endings

1) Jeanie said something in the comments last week that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. She noted that 2025 had been a year of leaving for me. My mom died, Nu went away to college, and At moved to Chicago. Not all of it is as sad as the first thing on the list--I'm happy for Nu and At; this is the right thing for them. (And it helps that Big A and I are having a wonderful time by ourselves.) The way Jeanie framed this actually helped me, because after At's ex and my mom died within months of each other, I kept thinking some third calamity would befall us. Now here's a list of three, and I feel like I can exhale. 

2) It has been four months. On the family WhatsApp chat, which we'd continued to use since the avatar was a group photo with my mom, I guess the system has noticed there haven't been any messages from my mom in a while, so it posted that she had "left the conversation." My sister and I were very rattled by this. I keep sneaking looks at that screen and it's a gut punch every time. 

3) Engie marveled yesterday that we start school so early. Yes, but I take heart in knowing that in 15 weeks, this semester will end and bring me face-to-face with summer break.* I feel-hope-trust that sunshine will heal me.

* I usually end this sentence with "bitches!" in my head.

Pic: Grey, sleeting, and foggy--a terrible trifecta all day. (Not a B&W photo.)

Monday # 1

It's just another Monday, but also the very first Monday of the year, so I'm counting that as significant! 

I'm all prepped (Canvas pages are published, syllabuses are ready, students have been emailed, I've looked over my notes and silly jokes, diagnostics are ready to go, waitlisted students in the oversubscribed classes have been manually added to the roster, I looked up new icebreakers, etc.). But that doesn't mean I'm not super antsy with the usual mix of excitement AND ANXIETY. I've been teaching for over 30 years... And yet, every time is like the first time.

Some somewhat Hamnet-related thoughts. First off, Nance, Lisa, and J were so kind in their approval of that last poem. And I thought about how I couldn't have written that poem if my mom was alive. And then weirdly how proud she'd be of being my muse if she knew. But how happy I'd be to just have her be here so I could write about ants and grasses or whatever else I used to write about before. Also, I'm pretty wrecked by mom's passing... but, watching that movie, it occurred to me that I cannot even imagine losing a human child.  

Pic: The daffodil buds I bought myself last week are beginning to flower, as are the roses SH gave me on Saturday. JL gave me that little red cardinal when cardinals were visiting me everyday in Amma's wake in September. I should start a label# SecretWinterFlowers

patchwork world

Big A offered to take Nu back to college so I could work on what I need to get back to campus. Now I'm mostly all set for the start of term. I'm going to miss Nu and their quirky humor and their sweetly impulsive affections and their friends in and out of the house all day long! 

After Big A returned, we walked to the planetarium for a show, and then walked over to our usual sushi place, and then headed home to watch a movie with Max and Huck. 

So overall a nice (Boss) day for me, but the words of wise ones are ringing in my ears. Edward Said: "Every empire, however, tells itself and the world that it is unlike all other empires, that its mission is not to plunder and control but to educate and liberate." Tupac: "They got money for wars but can't feed the poor."

Pic: The Red Cedar beginning a sunset show as we walked across the bridge. 

when tenderness descends

even as a world we knew is ending

in the fullness of indifference 

a new year is beginning  

another time will soon need assembly 

we'll plot, field plans, while you 

look down from a photograph

your smile tells me that it's ok to let 

my guard down even after god 

let you down...

in the brightness of believing in you 

I search in the silence and hear

susurrance as a yes

_____________

Pic: Outside with Max this morning.

"When you can only go UP"

The title makes this sound like a post about how when things start out pretty bad, they can only get better...

But actually, "When you can only go UP" was Big A's text that accompanied this forlorn picture of Huck on the family chat. She loves to scamper up the back stairs, but freaks out about the descent because they're floating stairs and she could fall through them. She used to be fine with them last year, but probably had a close call and decided that was enough. Now, she'll just mope until someone notices and carries her downstairs. (She looks so darn adorable peeking through the slats though!)

However, in the things getting better department:

I'm happy to hear that the National Guard will be withdrawn from Chicago (also LA and Portland, but Chicago is where At lives now).

The lights over the dining table have been very flicker-y for a couple of days. We've put in a call to the electrician, but in the meantime, we've been eating our dinners by candlelight. I knew I'd be all over it, but Nu and Big A really enjoy the cosy vibe as well.

I've been doing things... with people again. Earlier this week, I went to a movie with friends. We were supposed to get dinner after, but the movie was Hamnet and I cried for at least 70% of the movie and so I came back home. I got coffee today. I'm getting brunch tomorrow. It's not all walks and bookclubs either.

School starts up on Monday for Nu and me. I can't wait to get back to the three R's--return, routine, and regularity.

to a bright timeline

Oh, 2026... thank you for getting my hopes up.

New York has its most progressive and (dare I say) charming mayor, also first democratic socialist, Muslim, South Asian, and youngest (in a century). Closer to us, Detroit has its first woman mayor.

I got my first plant catalog in the mail--surely, it must mean Spring is coming? I bought myself some potted daffodils at Trader Joe's yesterday to pretend, anyway.

There was SUNSHINE and so many rainbows from my new rainbow maker.

And at the neighbors' open house today, I got to catch up and felt more like the social me than I've felt in a long time. (Last night, Big A was at work, Nu had friends over, and I rang in the new year with Max + Huck and family on the phone.)

Pic: Here's Max in freshly fallen snow. He's so delirious and zoom-y, that when I say I'm going to catch him, he runs TOWARDS me.  

Onward!

Yes, it's snowing, but you know what--Max loves the snow! And the way he lifts his head in wonder to look at the sky and then races around in jubilation... it makes me want to catch him and squeeze him tight and thank the world for all its wonders.  

Also wonderful--realizing with relief that what I took to be two spots of fungal infection on my arm are just the marks from my Covid and flu shots from last week. 

Here's to entering 2026 with good health, good cheer, peace, and success, everyone! 💗

Pic: Our holiday card, sans the sappy message I had printed on the back.

a time after this time in three languages

because I had not been intimate with death
I did not know all its names

I had to text a friend who teaches Hindi 

to check if kaal, which means time 

is also an archaic word for death

and it is 

doesn't it make sense?

the passage of time means death

look at old B&W photographs

their grey, grainy flecks, the people 

disappearing before their time

how my mother will stay 

behind at the end of this year

And in Tamil kaal-am, which is time or season

is also the formal, euphemistic word for death

someone's season is over     they passed away       I can't find the vein

there's another kaal in Tamil, and that's toddy 

(perhaps for someone who wants to get blackout drunk 

so they never have to remember grief)

Kaal in Tamil also means stone or rock

(or that which you turn into when death visits

they're gone and now you are too)

Or kaal can mean mountain (from where you can fall 

or where you may want to run away and never return)

Kaal in Tamil and Telugu means legs

(you could use those to run away, maybe to the mountain)

kaal-a in Telugu, though, is dream

(yet another way you could run away) 

and if you say it another way

kaal-a is art 

chitra-kaala is visual art

I don't know what art it is 

to foolishly repeat a word

watch it like a small plant 

breaking tips and branches

until it begins to look strange

and loses meaning 

almost becoming 

something that doesn't exist 

almost

_________________________

Note: The title comes from the lovely Nicole's comforting mantra ("there will be a time after this time") although I may have messed it up a bit by borrowing it for this rumination on the passage and polysemy of time. It feels like I didn't stick the landing...

Pic: From the Lake Superior website ahead of the blizzard. 22-foot waves. To a non-native Midwesterner like me, it seems wild that you all are calling these seas "Lakes."

the next door

this sight is silk, mirroring devotion

window frames or photo frames 

the wetness of the day ahead

                              is already foreseen 

where are the saints of broken dreams

and empty hearts--summon them

I see a familiar face, then see

                      that, for now, it's just me

but did I not wish once upon a time 

to know myself, sight the filigree

of light? On this threshold

                      I could pause, gratefully

________________

Pic: Cream paperwhites in the foreground, magenta cyclamen at the back. What I think of as my "secret" flowers make today's blizzard bearable.

homemade parade

if I could take today in my arms

bewitchingly like a toddler 

to carry it into the future

to the world outside

where I have yet 

to go in 

perhaps 

because as winter 

breaths stab restive

I discover... lying here 

that I can say love and mean 

more than a million different things 

Pic: A scoop of snow remains in the bird's nest out front.

Updates: My back is better i.e., back to its customary and manageable amount of pain. I've successfully put away Christmas 2025: tree, decor, outdoor decoration, gift wrap, and all. Hallelujah.

12/30: Changing the last word of line #2 to "toddler" (from "mother") after a genius suggestion from Nance.