On a loss for words

but a picture sometimes says it all

The enormity of current events is just that— enormous.

I’ve been spending the morning scrolling though social media, my gmail inbox, my various newsletters, my calendar, the photos in my cellphone. But none of them are offering grist for writing right now. The enormity of current events is just that— enormous. There is so much to say that there really is nothing more to say, not today anyway. My spouse Janyce and I are headed out to a memorial a few hours from now in the 90-degree heat of the afternoon. I wouldn’t miss it. It’s a chance to celebrate the life of a dear friend. Today I will meet Roger’s other friends and experience the body of work he left behind as a painter. His close friends have organized a beautiful and joyous event in his honor. It’s what he wanted.

Yesterday, I took this photo while I was driving in traffic and listening to the NPR reports on the recent Supreme Court decision. It’s simply summer traffic, but the storm cloud overhead and the merging of the roads, the Fed Ex truck and the bicycle strapped to the back of the SUV struck a fairly ominous chord for me as I was driving. I was reminded of the very recent pictures of the people of Ukraine, fleeing their country in their cars, running away from the unthinkable. I would have sent this picture to Roger in email and we would have talked about it.

Exodus 2022

Another friend of mine sent me a New Yorker article this morning. I read it. And that all too familiar feeling of a pit in my stomach came back for a few minutes. I can’t avoid the news. I can’t be complacent about the trouble in this country. But I do have to choose how and where and when to expend my energy. When to protest. Where I can make the most difference. And how best to express myself. As always, I want to turn to art in these moments— to the visual artists, those visionaries for inspiration and hope, and to the poets who ask the questions:

are we shells or are we roots or are we buildings or are we torches

Jean Prokott

NEON SHADES OF YOUTH

With lines from my high school students’ conversations after the Roe v. Wade SCOTUS leak.

it’s not ohvulation it’s awvulation.
 
I am a young woman
in America.
 
this is my neon youth.
 
there is a man in a black coat at the back of the dark alley,
 
and I fear I am only waiting
my turn.
 
you cannot build a human from my organs after I die—
 
a man’s body,
seminal vesicles like a tiny brain
behind his bladder.
no one has ever taken his straight-cis-white-rights.
 
a woman’s heartbeat, as red as a wax seal,
hides a letter they won’t let us read.
 
where does the egg go?
are we shells or are we roots or are we buildings or are we torches.