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We’ve reached the halfway point of the month, and the location of a new window that really isn’t a window, exactly. I mean, it’s a screen. We were always going to have to get to the screens.

As a person who lived through the moral panic of video games as a child and then a teacher, and who is living with everyone else through the genuine cause-and-effect panic that is the morally bankrupt application of uncontrolled AI, this too-much-this-or-that in terms of digital interaction has solidified into the realization that forevermore, It’s Always Going to Be Something. People will always be upset about that which doesn’t fit within their parameters of societal or personal behavior or expectation. Even before screens, and reading on screens, my father sought to eradicate my predilection towards bookishness – without his control over the characters in the books nor over my thoughts about their actions or words or what I was learning from them, the contents of my mind must have felt chaotic, untrammeled, and wholly out of his reach… just like an individual’s thoughts ought to be.

May we guard the freedom to read forever.

avoid, escape, iterate

what mattered
was distance:
diminished

consciousness
receding
present, past –

the future
replete with
evasions.

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Heard the factoid this morning that Queen Elizabeth I’s courtiers blackened their teeth with soot to mimic her own genuinely decaying teeth, as in 1533 their monarch’s unrestrained love of sugar had left its mark and dentistry was not yet really A Thing. The podcast compared this to the myriad women who have gone under the knife to change their appearance and appeal to the putative head of this government in the year of our Lord twenty twenty-six. …And, I was thinking how we’re all grasping so frantically, even since primary school, for somewhere to belong, in the most galling fashion at times (see: Junior High). …and, how standing out and solitariness is not how most of us are naturally inclined, and how much effort it must take to stay true to oneself in that environment, and not even change your makeup routine to resemble the herd… And, how in two years or six months or less, the herd is going to look wholly different and even more ridiculous than it does now, and for those whose surgeries can’t be undone, then what? For whom are we changing our very bodies and selling our souls, with no reciprocity?

Collectively, We The People need Dr. Rudine’s windows, mirrors, and sliding glass doors… and for heaven’s sake to maybe have a sit and a quiet think… Because beyond all of the other *waves hands* …murderous, callous, unethical, illegal, ungodly -ists and -isms, none of that “go along to get along” stuff is ever sustainable. Weren’t we all supposed to learn that in junior high?

transcendent

confidence
shouldn’t lie
in “prettiest.”

upending
privilege,
the wisest

transcend it.
Indifferent
assurance.

Hummingbirds (which I cannot draw) are the ultimate in assured indifference. Beautiful, but may or may not come to the feeder. Exquisite, but may merely give you a quick side-eye as they pass. Stunning, and could not care less what you’re all about. #goals.

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Washday

Consider
housekeeping:
constantly

applying
principles
of order.

(though laundry
demonstrates
entropy…)

(Since even my washing machines have windows, they seemed fair game for observation.)

Monday, November 13, 1620, the Mayflower came ashore. After they probably kissed the ground in gratitude for someplace solid to stand, the Pilgrim-esses hauled out the wash… because it was Monday, after all, and that’s what one did on Monday.

Every time I manage to do laundry on a Monday I feel some sort of bizarre kinship with hundreds-of-years-ago Englishwomen, who started this, and all who came after… Just trying to impose order on chaos, tying the days of the week to some sort of recognizable pattern, trying to make meaning of drudgery. Good luck to all of us who keep trying…

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Grr. I’m so discombobulated today I thought it was Friday. It’s the noise. I’m going to really need the neighbors (and the HOA) to coordinate on a day when they have the yardwork done, because the minute it stops raining it gets ridiculous…

suburban nuisance

“Don’t chase poems,”
let them come,”
I insist.

Arriving
afterwards,
an assault –

Leaf blowers.
Honestly,
What’s the point?!

SOMEONE is a little grumpy this morning. I really hope it’s going to go better tomorrow – on the plus side, the verse portion of today’s project went very, very quickly…


Seeing as its nearly Poetry Friday (sigh: not Friday yet. Alas), I am leaving myself a reminder to check in on the Kidlit Progressive Poem. This annual creative exercise, ably organized by poet Margaret Simon, is fascinating for someone who hated group projects in school. Somehow, even with all of our varied styles, the group pulls it off, though the verse takes frequent(!) unexpected (!!!) turns. I find the whole process enormously entertaining, so I’ve joined this year again, next in line after my play cousins Karen, Heidi, and Mary Lee. The theme this year is metaphorical, and so far it’s very… avian? in the Land of Poetry. Today kicks off a second stanza – I expect we’ll take another of those unexpected turns, so I look forward to seeing where we all end up…

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crowded table

Imagine
holidays
by Hallmark –

color-drenched
celluloid.
Realism

is crowded:
just space for…
…everyone.

There’s a song by The Highwomen called “Crowded Table” that was on my mind this morning (we’re doing a double quartet choral version sometime later this Spring, and the chorus is an incredible earworm), and it seems appropriate, as yesterday the niecelet informed the family group text that in a couple of Sundays at brunch she’ll be introducing us all to Someone Important. My little sister is buying matching hoodies with her Someone Important (they are tooth-achingly sweet), and it really does seem like in the next year or so the family will grow by two. There’s already seventeen of us for dinner when we’re all there, so… time to actually buy extra seating instead of making do with the piano bench and various office chairs.

It’s so different from when I came home from college with Himself – they’re well into their thirties and not shaky twenty-year-olds cringing in advance of the inevitable judgment. They’re giving us a chance to be part of their lives, not hat-in-hand asking for… anything, really, but their due: being treated like grown women with their own business to mind.

Vive la différence. You go, girls.

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Five Stars

Rehearsals,
Auditions –
Life holds none.

Though *nightly
curtains rise
on “Sunset.”

Unrehearsed,
The light drains
brilliantly.

Driving home the other night, the hills looked like black paper cutouts. Spring sunsets stretch longer as the light seeps more slowly. I thought “this light deserves a poem,” and though colored pencils don’t really convey the shade of peach just above the hills, I’m loving the quick scribble format of three. Though speed is not the point, this was both faster and more fun.

And yes, I wrote “daily” and meant its opposite, but them’s the breaks when you’re lettering in indelible ink. 🙄