i lived at 1011 45th street for over 18 years. that place is so intertwined in my head that i still involuntarily see it when i hear or think the word home. i have also lived on a ship, in an old brick house, and now in a little bungalow with a tan ceramic hearth and a green kitchen. these places are old friends, part of the family.

my children don't live anywhere. they stay places. at first, i thought this was an odd dialectic turn of phrase, like the way people here say that something happened "on yesterday," or that they're "fittin' to go wal-mart."

"staying" is different. it's language as reality. aiesha doesn't live at her auntie's house, she stays with her auntie. she writes letters to her mom, "dear mom, pleas pleas come home. when will you come? i will be good. i am good. will you come? i love you. love, aiesha." mom comes by, sometimes stays with auntie for a few weeks. stays, doesn't live. detriss's mom stays with her parents, they have stayed in the same federal housing project for years. adults say to each other, "where you stay now?" or "i stay over there." i don't know if any black people own property in sunflower. everyone i know lives in government housing. you stay awhile, then you go. people don't know street names in a town of 500, but places are "you know, by where bianca's mama's staying now."

it's like that magic trick with balls under the cups. who is under which roof now? i guess it's that the people are the only players here. the setting is so transient and impersonal that you learn not to see it.

"picture me rollin..."

a swamp and two poems

let there be new flowering
in the fields let the fields
turn mellow for the men
let the men keep tender
through the time let the time
be wrested from the war
let the war be won
let love be
at the end

~ lucille clifton


use a log to hit a hog
use a twig to hit a pig
use a rake to hit a snake
use a swatter to hit an otter
use a rake to hit a snake
but please use a feather if you ever
hit me

~ shel silverstein

two things:

one) did you guys know that "a year of magical thinking" will be taking the stage in new york? definite road trip.

two) this quote:
"there is not one big cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person."
anais nin

beet juice

last april marie and abbie found a book about some juice fast/detox thing. i remember abbie making a huge batch of this green goo that actually tasted delicious. according to the book i was only supposed to have that juice for breakfast and later only that juice all day. i'd drink my juice and i'd think about an english muffin slathered in butter and honey, or the banana pancakes from lou henris, and i'd despise my little glass of green juice. while in negril, on the other hand, i fell madly in love with beet juice. i drank it three times a day, many times accompanying banana pancakes. this is my apology to the green juice that really was tasty and i'm sorry that i despised you.

Dreaming of Birkenstocks

The bones of my once-Chaco-pampered toes have deteriorated to new lows of artheritic malformation thanks to these blessed Payless heels. Come on and rescue me.

trying to find a balance

to borrow a title for this week.... eat, pray, love.

first, two moments of quiet on a warm february day.

daffodils came up in the delta this week, yellow after the gray.

now for introductions to some of the people i spend my days with.

when she grows up, S wants to be a "ballet." she has an ear and an eye for these things, this dance of life. her mom wants her to make some money, though, so she's revised her life plan to include being a teacher. she can always dance at home.

R signs everything "love tony" just so everyone always knows that he loves his little brother. he throws an average of 3 tantrums a day, during which his lower lip sticks out so far it looks like a heart. his smile lights up the room when he wants it to. he has a grizzly bear growl of a voice and a donald duck laugh.

teacher pride

the work of a delta baby genius.

and the heart breaks

red

look! the same plant in the north of argentina as in jamaica. beautiful.

so in two days i'm going to be sky-high heading to negril for a yoga retreat. it's snowing here today but it's only forty degrees so instead of pretty white flakes we've been invaded by some sort of slush hell. nothing like that to make you excited to get away to somewhere warm.

speaking of yoga, do you two (marie and abbie) remember me trying to follow along in those damn classes at the studio? i was miserable. i kept falling over, no balance whatsoever, watching you both like hawks trying to follow your every move. now i will be doing something similar but with a tan.

i wish i could take all four of you with me.

check out these earrings i bought for the trip.

(and yes, that is a glamour shot taken at the mall.)

the heart breaks

from maira kalman's latest nyt column.

her book comes out in october. i'm already excited.

when i create, i want it to be with this clarity. with pieces.

an excerpt from the book i´m reading (In the Skin of a Lion by Michael Ondaatje)-
....

-These are my favourite lines. I´ll whisper them. ¨I have taught you that the sky in all its zones is mortal.... Let me now re-emphasize the extreme looseness of the structure of all objects.¨

In the darkness he can see just the faint aura of her hair.

-Say it again.

....

good morning friends.
want to gather around the table barefoot and have a cup of chai?

i miss those mornings, so we should recreate them here. the conversation, the tea, just in different parts of the world. and sometimes, when time and money allows, we should recreate them again together.

Farthest from Home

My photos are from far away but carry the same sentiment. Mostly because there are parts of 109 that were so integral in my evolution that they can never be removed from me. The sentiment carries with it the same colors. Brick Red. Grass Green. August blue skies. Echos of both the past and future. Its nice to be in a land of color again. To sit in this very moment and feel the intensity of the sun, the utter refreshment of something as simple as water, the appreciation of beauty in something as organic as a string of black and white beans.

cheers

To growth.

May the conversation continue.

May the honey, wine, and green tea flow.

It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.
~E. B. White, "Charlotte's Web"