4.45 miles minnehaha falls and back 35 degrees / steady drizzle
The forecast, rain all day, but when I looked out my window it didn’t seem too bad. No ice, above freezing, so I decided to go for a run, which was an excellent decision. I was bundled up and barely felt the rain — well, I guess I felt my soaked socks and cold legs (through my running tights), but I didn’t care. It was wonderful to be outside, mostly alone, only a few other walkers and runners joining me.
Because of the rain, I was wearing an old pair of Saucony’s (3 or more years old?) and didn’t run too fast. That helped me stay relaxed and able to keep going for longer. Maybe I should train some more in these shoes and save my new ones for faster runs, races, and until I’m trained up to run longer?Everything was wet. My favorite wet thing was the slick mirror Godfrey Boulevard made from the rain and new asphalt. Very cool! I saw my running self, trees, and sky and I thought about the upside down world where they all lived.
10 Things
the creek water falling fast over the limestone ledge on the bridge at the top of the falls
the deep puddle I stepped in that I thought was only a reflection of light on the trail
drip drip drip of water off the brim of my cap
taking off my hood, folding the flaps of my hat, and hearing the steady patter of rain
in through the nose 2 3 / out through the mouth 2 — 123/12
a steady, almost invisible rain with the occasional big drop — plain rain or freezing rain?
the lid of the toilet in the porta potty was wedged behind a bar and couldn’t be closed
empty benches / mostly empty parking lots
bright headlights cutting through the trees on the other side of the ravine
running by the Horace Cleveland Overlook parking lot and seeing an animal care truck (another name for animal control?) — is there a wolf or a coyote or a bear in the gorge — it’s always possible; they’ve all been spotted before
worms after the rain
It’s raining now, but sometime later today or tomorrow or the next day, it will stop and the worms will appear on the sidewalk. Here’s a poem I found about those worms:
You know how, after it rains, my father told me one August afternoon when I struggled with something hurtful my best friend had said, how worms come out and crawl all over the sidewalk and it stays a big mess a long time after it’s over if you step on them?
Leave them alone, he went on to say, after clearing his throat, and when the rain stops, they crawl back into the ground.
It would have been nice to run today because it is supposed to rain and snow for the next few days, but my IT band hurt in the middle of the night, making sleeping more difficult, so I’m taking a break today.
A new monthly challenge: Worms / Bugs
After a month of only experimenting with Holes, I’d like to add in a monthly challenge: worms/bugs. This challenge is inspired by a few things:
1
Last week, standing on the deck and enjoying the warming weather while Delia did her final pee of the night (what we call the “final hurrah”) I started hearing this strange noise. It sounded like rain, but it wasn’t raining. Lots of somethings crawling, all over the yard. Could it be mice? I tried staring, but couldn’t see anything but dead leaves. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was right by me. I felt like Harry Potter spotting Peter Petigrew’s moving footsteps on the Marauder’s Map but not seeing him — except I wasn’t seeing anything, just hearing it. The next week, I heard it again and managed to convince Scott to come out and listen too. And, he heard it, and was as freaked out about it as I was! If it had only been me who heard it, Scott and the kids might have dismissed it as “Sara doing Sara things” (where doing Sara things = seeing things very strangely/fantastically/improbably or impossibly).1 But he heard it and did what he does when he can’t explain it: he asked Facebook. The answer: earthworms. Of course! We didn’t rake up any of our leaves last fall (on the advice of Minneapolis Parks or Friends of the Mississippi River) and the earthworms were making those leaves rustle as they moved through them. Instead of being grossed out, I find this realization delightful and delightfully freaky. Such a strange experience to hear the dirt/leaves/grass alive all around us!
2
I might not have thought to devote a month to worms if I hadn’t also picked up a book at the library 2 days ago that has an entire chapter on Bugs. In Sea of Grass, two environmental reporters write about the prairie — land that looks barren but is teeming with life. The book has a LOT of words (too many for my bad vision?), but it looks interesting. Without a way to focus, like a particular challenge to study bugs/worms, attempting to take on this book would be too overwhelming for me. So, I’ll start this month with bugs and Sea of Grass.
3
I didn’t think of this third inspiration until I started writing this entry: what living things do you often find in holes? Rabbits, of course, but also Bugs! and Worms!2
Bugs Bunny — writing this last sentence and putting rabbits and bugs together reminded me of Bugs Bunny. Why is he named Bugs? I looked it up: he’s named for the character’s initial director: Ben “Bugs” Hardaway (wikipedia).
In addition to reading the bugs chapter, I can imagine studying: some great worm and bug poems; the idea of light as an insect; Socrates philosopher as gadfly/pest; rereading Kafka’s Metamorphosis; more on monarchs.
holes
Oh, the fiddle and faddle of it all! Almost too much for me, I think. The stringing of the loom with thread, I mean. RJP and I went to Michaels and got a few supplies: more thread, a sharper box cutter, pins, and (RJP’s suggestion) some canvases to put the poems on so I can use pins to connect the words of the poem with thread.
This afternoon, I measured and cut out a 4.5 x 4.5 loom and glued a 4 x 4 grid on it. Then I threaded the loom — very tiring! I think I need a bigger square, ideally more hefty than card stock, but less bulky than regular cardboard — a shoe box. And, I need to make the slats for the thread deeper and more consistently cut. My cuts weren’t the greatest because I struggled to work with the box cutter on the cardboard. More practiced, I hope, will make it easier. Maybe I should also try practicing differently: not threading an entire loom, but experimenting with a few cuts first?
I’ve been hearing this phrase, “X doing X things” a lot in reference to superstar endurance athletes being awesome — like when Taylor Knibb dominates a middle distance triathlon by ripping on the bike course and the announcer says, that’s just Taylor doing Taylor things, and I’ve been wondering how I might apply it to myself. I think it works here. I don’t see my Sara-way-of-seeing as bad; I like being strange and improbable! Could that be the title of a chapbook or full collection: Sara Doing Sara Things? Another phrase I’ve been hearing a lot on podcasts and race commentary in running and triathlon is: give her her flowers or he hasn’t gotten his flowers or they deserve their flowers. It’s a reference to the practice of giving a bouquet of flowers to someone after their concert or play or some sort of performance — they also give flowers to the winners of track races in the Diamond League ↩︎
Hearing Scott’s um, actually in my head, I’ll add that I understand that bugs/insects and worms are not the same thing and that worms are not bugs. Maybe a better way to name this challenge is “creepy crawling things below the ground or near the ground”? ↩︎
Overdressed. When I checked the temp, it read 45 but feels like 34 so I added a layer, which was a mistake. Lots of dripping sweat and a flushed face. My goal today was to try and take it easy with a steady 10 minute pace. I was mostly steady, but ran faster than that. I need to figure out how to slow down again; my new shoes make me want to run faster than I can sustain for long runs.
I chanted in triple berries to keep steady and to lose track of words and ideas: strawberry/blueberry/raspberry. It worked. I don’t remember what I thought about.
For some of the run, it felt hard to keep going and for some of it, it was easy. I think it’s time to experiment more with ways to distract myself — or to lead my mind in directions other than, this is hard, I can’t keep going, when can I stop?
overheard: I think I heard something at the beginning of the run that I wanted to remember but I lost it when I started chanting in triples. I do remember hearing something at the end: Two women walking, one to the other — it feels so good to have the sun on my face!
10 Things
a speedy runner in white down below, on the winchell trail — beside me, then ahead of me, then gone
soft, shimmering shadows
a LOUD siren coming from behind, then an ambulance speeding by on the river road
empty benches
the view from the sliding bench: uncluttered, the sands gleaming so white that it looked like snow
soft, dry dirt — no more mud
one car then another then another passing by on the river road
dried flowers hanging from the pink sign reading, Someone was taken by ICE here
a slower biker riding on the grass between the river road and seabury
the chain is still strung across the top step of the old stone steps, blocking the way down to the river
holes
Arts and crafts fun. This morning I did a test run of a yarn grid for Holes 1. A 9 x 9 square of cardboard with 1/2 inch slits all around. A long piece of blue yarn1 which I wound through the slits. A poem under the yarn grid: circles/dark holes encasing the words: off center era.
Assessment:
I need an exact-o knife for more precise cuts
the blue yarn is too thick and makes it impossible to read; try dark thread instead
make sure that the thread is long enough before starting to wrap it around the notches
follow this order: cut notches, place/attach (glue?) poem to cardboard, make sure the thread is long enough then wind it around
question: if I’m using thread, can I use a thinner frame, like cardstock instead of cardboard?
Here’s a picture of my test poem — should I call it, “(i’m in my)”?
(in my) off center era
Okay, I tried it with thread and it works better, I think, but I need to be neater with it. Although, I do like the color of the blue. . . . For the larger Holes series, I need the black thread. In Holes 1, the Amsler Grid is straight, but by Holes 3, the lines will be much more crooked and warped. Black thread is much more effective for this warping.
(in my) off center era
A few more thoughts: It looks like I’ll need to take the circle-encased words and place them over the grid to be legible — the easiest way to do that is with the words as cut-outs, although I could also try weaving the thread under them (but that sounds difficult and beyond my limited skill and ability as “barely not blind.” Also, more thread is needed for back-up. And, should I create a frame around the holes poem that covers the ends? It could be a basic frame, either purchased or made, but I like the idea of creating some texture and/or a collage — maybe the black mesh fabric I bought, or ___? It needs to be something related to the holes poems and the act of reading? I’ll keep thinking about it. Would it work to have the words of the found poem on the frame?
update from yesterday’s post
First, yesterday I mentioned a discussion of three types of freedom that I was having with FWA at the dog park: I was looking for my PhD advisor’s book that discusses it. I can’t find my copy yet, but I found it online:
Second, yesterday I also mentioned that I was picking up 2 books from the library: Sea of Grass: the Conquest, Ruin, and Redemption of the American Prairie and a found poem collection by Annie Dillard, Morning Like This. More on both of these tomorrow.
Finding a long enough strand of yarn took at least 3 tries. I thought I had a long enough strand then it would run out half way through and I would have to unravel what I had already done. Something important to remember for the official grid: make sure the yarn/string/thread is long enough before you begin! ↩︎
A walk with Delia and FWA at the dog park. So wonderful! At some point during the walk I thought about how I’m going to remember these walks. I used to love walking and talking with my mom in the woods. Now I get to do it with Delia and FWA. Today we talked more about One Piece, both the anime and live-action version. FWA convinced Scott and I to watch it and we’re both really enjoying it. We’ve swapped out Love Boat and Little House on the Prairie for One Piece and the survival show, Alone.
The floodplain forest in early spring looks like a tree graveyard. There are dead trees in varying levels of decay everywhere. Dead trees leaning on living trees. Branchless trunks. Giant trees on their sides, some with their nest of roots exposed, others with most of their bark stripped, gleaming white. FWA and I talked about what it will look and feel like once the living trees have leaves again. We agreed that we will like it less because it will feel too hemmed in.
This feeling of being hemmed in, and less free, led to a discussion of freedom. FWA mentioned freedom from and freedom to and I tried (not quite successfully) to recall my PhD advisor’s class on different types of freedom: negative freedom (freedom from), positive freedom (freedom to) and a freedom related to social welfare — what is this third freedom called? I’ll have to look it up in her book tomorrow.
walk: 2+ miles to Arbeiter 73 degrees
I had to pick up 2 books at the library (more on that tomorrow), so Scott and I decided to walk to the library and then over to Arbeiter. Since I’m taking a break from alcohol, I tried their NA beer, which was really good. In my 20s, I was incredulous that anyone would drink a non-alcoholic beer — why bother? But now, in my 50s, I’m more open-minded. I suppose the NA beers have gotten better since then, so it’s easier to be open-minded.
holes
I have decided that my Holes series has reached the status of obsession, which is exciting and fun and uncomfortable as I wonder if it’s all too much. I think the discomfort is good for me; I’ve been trying to not be too much for too long.
This morning, I finished drawing the Amsler grid over the mapped poem in Holes 1. I don’t like it drawn on; with my bad vision, it is too sloppy. A new thought, which is really an old thought that keeps returning: create a grid with string or thin yarn and put it over the mapped poem. Make a frame out of cardboard with notches for the string, like I did in elementary art class — what are those called? In addition to that grid, add string lines linking the words and making the poem. Use the string grid to attach these extra strings, or pins or __ ?
The center of an Amsler Grid has a dot; it’s the dot you focus on you look at the lines. As I was drawing my grid’s dot onto the poem, I realized that it (the dot) could be the reason why I’m using circles to encase my words. Of course, I am also using them because they are easy for me to trace. I like the idea of that center dot, which I can sometimes see and sometimes can’t, as haunting my reading and the words.
Yesterday, talking to Scott about this project I said, with my bad vision and lack of drawing/design skills, I have no business trying to make these poems and yet, I can’t stop myself. When I first started writing poetry, I had no business doing that either, and I kept going because I loved it.
Put that last thought beside another conversation I had with Scott a few days earlier. I was asking him what he thought about some lines I had drawn — do they look okay? do they make sense? He said something like, why aren’t you trusting yourself? You don’t need me to tell you whether they work or not.
There are some things I do with confidence and without consulting others — swimming, my running/writing practice. And there are many other things I don’t. Perhaps the ratio between not consulting/consulting is out of balance. I need to trust/rely on myself a bit more. A flash: it seems important to figure out this Hole project on my own. To create it without the help of others. If, because of my bad vision, I can’t execute some part of my plan with these Holes, then I need to figure out a new way to do whatever I’m trying to do.
A cardboard loom?! I searched, “weaving elementary craft weaving cardboard” and I found this YouTube video, Basic Weaving on a cardboard loom. I think that is what I was thinking about!
a return to art class in elementary school!
I hadn’t thought of it was a loom, although it makes sense — the lines on the amsler grid are the warp and the weft. I love this idea of connecting it to weaving and looms and my mom, the fiber artist! In the video, the instructor uses a full piece of cardboard, but I’m thinking of using just a frame instead.
Not the easiest run: stomach cramps from gas, perhaps the result of my increased fiber and iron. Miles 1 and 2 were mostly okay, but mile 3 was difficult and included several walk breaks. Other than that, a beautiful afternoon for a run. I wore shorts and a short sleeved shirt. Spring! It will get cold again this week, and it might even snow1 a little, but the warm weather will return and melt everything quickly. Hooray!
10 Things
voices rising up from deep in the gorge
empty benches — even in this beautiful weather?
a runner behind me — the voice from their running app calling out, you have completed 13 kilometers. I almost turned around and called out, nice word!
several bikers passing by FAST!
loud noise — music, voices — near the ford bridge. was it nearby or were the noises travel far on the wind?
the soft shadows of branches, the rounded shadow of the streetlamp light
bikers biking down the wabun hill then turning to go down the locks and dam hill — a minute later, they slowly climbed both hills — it looked like they might not have known where they were going and made a mistake as opposed to using the hills for training
fee bee fee bee
every bit of the snow, even the little mounds that were piled in the corners has melted
running a short stretch of the winchell trail, covered in leaves and shadows
holes
Today I’m redoing Holes 1. Orginally, each of the holes encasing the words of the poem were in the shape of my blind spot. I’ve decided to make them circles instead, with one big blind spot in the center. I briefly thought about making each of them the shape of the inner hole of my blind spot — which is currently a blind doughnut, with a small, still functioning center — but that doesn’t seem to work visually. Plus, when I stare at the wall for a moment I might see the blind spot in a form that I can trace, but my experience of the blind spot isn’t that straightforward. Sometimes I see the hint of dark loops encircling the words. Sometimes everything is just fuzzy or unfocused. I’m wondering if I can represent that by making the shaded in circles look softer and less defined, and messy, rough. Or maybe I should try a series of dark rings on some of them?
When I wrote this sentence, in the mid-afternoon, there was a chance of 1/2 inch of snow. Now, finishing this entry the next morning, the forecast (on Apple weather) is predicting 1-2 inches on Wednesday, 5-6 on thursday and 2-4 on sunday, ↩︎
4 miles river road, south/wabun/bottom of locks/river road, north 38 degrees / feels like 22 wind: 15 mph / gusts: 32 mph
Another windy run. Cold-ish, too. Wore running tights, shorts, 2 long-sleeved shirts, a pull-over, a hat, a hood, gloves. I didn’t feel overheated until the end. Lots of cars on the road, not that many people on the trail. Are they all going to the No Kings March at the capitol? I (kind of) wanted to go, but big crowds are not the easiest for me and Scott, RJP, and FWA struggle in them too, so I’m skipping it.
According to my watch, I slept for 7 hours and 21 minutes last night. That is a lot for me! And, my sleep score1 was 77. I think it helped me to feel stronger on the run.
10 Things
reaching the top of the wabun hill, I heard the clanging of the bell — is there a bell up here? no — it was a kid banging on something at the playground
wild turkeys — 4 or 5 of them, under the ford bridge! I passed close by them as I ran up the wabun hill. By the time I return back down the hill, they were gone
goose honks near the bottom of the locks and dam no. 1
swirling leaves
the round shadow of the light on the street lamp
more scales on the gray water
chanting in triple berries to keep a steady pace
running on the rim of the bluff, looking down at the winchell trail which was empty and farther down than I usually remember
at the top of the wabun hill, stopping to look through the chain link fence at the river
a boot, stuck on a stalk on the boulevard of matt the cat’s house
serve and a boot / the pink sign near the far house says, “someone was abducted by ICE here.”
The abduction by ICE happened early on, between the murders of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. Two people were pulled from their car and taken; the car was left by the side of the road.
In addition to this boot picture, I also took some pictures of the view through the chainlink fence.
1234
I like this series of pictures. It reminds me a little of how I see. I can see better through my peripheral vision than my central — even when and if I don’t want to. It’s distracting to focus on the edge details sometimes, and it makes what’s in the center look even fuzzier to me. In thinking about my Holes series, does this happen at all when I’m reading? Is there a way to connect this fence with the lines in an Amsler Grid? An idea: what if I drew a giant Amsler Grid over the top of the entire, 4 panel, Holes 1 poem?
What does the sleep score mean? I’m less interested in the specifics of it at this point, and more interested in tracking which direction that number is headed. 77, which is only “OK” according to Apple health info, is the highest number I’ve had in the past almost 2 weeks. A goal by May: a number in the 80s. ↩︎
5.5 miles ford loop 35 degrees / feels like 18 wind: 18 mph / gusts: 29 mph
Brr. I was underdressed this morning in only one long-sleeved shirt, a vest, tights, shorts, stocking cap, gloves. It was the wind that made it feel cold. Running north and east it blew into me. It was especially bad on the ford bridge. Even with the wind, a great run. Sun! Shadows! The feeling of spring!
Some of the run was hard, some of it wasn’t. A little bit of unfinished business, legs that were sometimes sore and heavy. Does it have to do with the iron pill I’m taking? I am not anemic, but on the very low end of ferritin stores — and have been for 4 or more years now — so I’m getting serious with trying to increase my iron. A pill everyday, first thing in the morning with a grapefruit. No coffee or other food for at least an hour. Hopefully my ferritin will increase a lot so I don’t have to get an expensive iron infusion. And hopefully that increased ferritin will make it easier for me to run longer because Scott and I signed up for the marathon in October again!
10 Things
a siren — off in the distance, then closer, closer, then almost right behind me, then stopped — the closer it got, the more distorted the siren became — I wonder who/what needed this emergency truck?
a dirt trail behind a bench and railing at the bottom of the summit hill that led to a delightfully open view of the river and the west bank
running over the lake street bridge, wind on water, a scaled surface, gray
bright blue sky with a few puffy clouds
an almost full parking lot at the monument, only 2 spots open
several groups of walkers with dogs, some emerging from the trails below the bluff, some entering them
the wind on the ford bridge! slow and steady, squaring my shoulders and leaning into it
goose honks under the ford bridge
empty benches
an interesting image of vine on the neighbor’s fence
fence / 27 march
holes
Yesterday I watched the clip with the caterpillar from Disney’s Alice in Wonderland and I started thinking more about language and letters and our relationship with words and meaning through reading.
O u e i o A
The scene begins with Alice peering through the leaves at a caterpillar smoking a pipe and singing the vowels. The vowels — the building blocks of language — is this cellular level of the english language? Taken on their own, apart from words and sentences and paragraphs, the vowels aren’t non-sense, but they offer very little sense. I found an old stencil of the alphabet that I inherited from my mom in a drawer yesterday. Could I stencil in the vowels in a way that didn’t look cheesy or ridiculous? I’m not sure.
A thought while I was running: I’m in the process of editing my poems, which involves erasing holes that contain words that I’m no longer using. What if those erased words, those ghosts, remained as traces, haunting the page? Almost like an after image? I’ve noticed that after staring at these dark holes on the page, they start to move around and appear in places they aren’t. (writing that last sentence, I’m reminded of Alice’s nonsense speech to her cat: nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t
A deconstructed amsler grid: an Amsler grid has 38 lines, not including the frame. I decided to use pieces of dried spaghetti and scatter 38 of them on top of 4 panel poem. I’m not sure what I will use in the final version. Sticks? Lines at strange angles drawn on the paper, over the holes and text? Here’s a picture of it.
holes 5 / wip
I had no plan for where the lines would go, I just dropped the spaghetti wherever — should there be a plan, or is haphazard better? Maybe I scatter the dried spaghetti haphazardly first, then replicate that with thick black lines on the actual poem? The only rules: 38 lines, all the same length.
Ok, I scattered the spaghetti and drew in the lines. Here’s what it looks like:
holes 5 wip 2
I just realized I only added 32 lines. I need to add 6 more. Are the lines dark enough? Does it make sense that they are a deconstructed amsler, or do I need to add in a more explicit reference to that somewhere on the poem?
5 miles highland bridge (old ford plant) 58 degrees
58 degrees?! 58 degrees. Spring is back. Today I wore shorts, a short-sleeved shirt and a pullover that I took off before the end of the second mile. Ran south on the river road, down towards the locks and dam no. 1, up the wabun hill, over the ford bridge, to the edge of highland bridge park and across to the river where it is above the old hydroelectric power plant. As I neared it, I could hear the water rushing over the concrete apron at the locks and dam. The river is low; the sandy island in the middle was exposed.
The birds! Sounding like spring. The river! Sparkling in the sun. The shadows! Both sharp (distinct) and soft (the bare branches almost feathery on the path).
overheard: one biker to another — he’s between jobs right now. No contracts and no money coming in.
Is it because it’s warm, or because I started just a little too fast, but the second half of the run was hard(er). Took some breaks to admire the view. On the St. Paul side, I noticed a sticker on the fence that looked like the head of the “Hanker for a Hunka Cheese” guy:
“Time for Timer”
holes
Worked on Holes 5 today, mostly mapping the words on the page. Here’s a draft of the text:
A hole perspective life on the way to Disney’s wonder land
I fall through the center of a book
everything on the page at strange angles separated from each other in the firelit room*
a “what is this?” feeling starts while watching text bloom into nonsense
O the beauty of vision gone mad.
*not sure about this line — I’m thinking of, like in a firelit room, but low light from a fire doesn’t separate words, it softens them, makes them dim so they almost become ghosts of the text they were
Went to the dog park with FWA and Delia this morning. Chilly but sunny and still down in the floodplain. Beautiful. No snow, hardly any mud, lots of felled trees. Halfway in we encountered an awesome dog carrying a stick that was 3 times as wide as his head. His owner said, the governor is about 200 feet ahead. Last summer, I recalled watching a video of Gov. Walz being interviewed at the dog park, so I knew he came here. About 5 minutes later, there he was! Alone and friendly. Hello! Hi! Of course, I couldn’t see well enough to recognize him, but FWA could. I wish I could have seen that it was him. I would have told him thank you.
5 Dog Park Things / 5 Winchell Trail Things
a section of the river, sparkling in the sun
the bark of the giant felled tree that FWA and I have walked around all this year had been stripped recently — a huge section of the trunk was barkless and gleaming white
faint footprints through the small stretches of mud
a motorboat rumbling by, making waves that rushed onto the shore near Delia
a woodpecker knocking on some dead wood, another (or the same one?) laughing
shadows everywhere — trees, the fence, lamp posts
the winchell trail path was covered in dry leaves that made a delightful crunch as I ran over them
a steady stream of cars (at 3:30 pm)
empty benches
no snow, no puddles
2.8 miles river road / winchell / lena smith 46 degrees
A quick run — in time and distance and speed. I should have slowed it down; it would have been easier. It’s hard to slow down in my new shoes! I was tired and felt the beginnings of a side stitch a mile in — I ate a protein bar too soon.
Today has been an off day — not terrible, there were many good moments in the hike and the run. But I woke earlier than I should have and felt, for lack of better word, weird. Untethered, fuzzy, maybe a little woozy, tired.
holes
As I continue to work on my holes poems, it has emerged that a few things are present in all of five of them: a hole, that hole’s impact on how I read, my blind spot, and the Amsler grid.
Why the Amsler Grid?
it connects these hole poems with my last round of visual vision poems, mood rings, which take the shape of an amsler grid
it ties in with the larger theme of all of my visual vision poems: vision tests — first, the snellen charts, then the amsler grid
it gives a context for my vision loss and grounds it in within a scientific/medical model of seeing/not seeing
it offers another way to visualize my untethering from that model/logic of test/diagnosis
This 4th one is especially interesting to me. I’m imagining fun ways to play with the implosion or destruction or destabilizing of the sharp, stable, rigid lines of a grid. The lines coming loose, or the lines a ladder without rungs — no way out of the hole, the lines collapsing and being sucked into the black hole, the lines forming a new path, a break in the lines — a gap, a dash, a slash, a breaking out of the lines — an opening, an exit, a room a door unlocked. What could that look like as part of my erasure poem? I mean, what, with my very limited skills in visual art, could I make possible?
I think I need to watch Alice in Wonderland again — should I read it, too? The hole in my vision as Alice’s rabbit hole. A passing through to wonderland. One difference: for Alice, Wonderland is the opposite of sense or nonsense.
everything would be what it wasn’t
I’d like to take this idea of non-sense out of the binary, Sense/Nonsense, to imagine non-sense as being more than just not sense. What if non-sense was its own kind of sense, just like Nothing is not nothing but something outside of our logic or language or ability to name it. Or, like I say in Holes 4, “a nothing that is something not sharing its secrets.
a flash: as I was working on the above list, I suddenly thought about the debate over whether or not listening to an audio book was reading. Does reading only happen with eyes? I like to distinguish it this way: reading with my eyes and reading with my ears. After this thought, a further thought: what if I created a holes poem that wasn’t visual, but aural? I could pick one of the New Yorker stories/articles that you can listen to, and figure out a poem from that. How might that work?
I had intended to work on all of this today, but I was busy all day: a birthday week coffee run with RJP, the dog park with FWA, weekly shopping with Scott, a run + cooking and laundry and a nap.
sleep
I decided to use my Apple watch this week to monitor my sleep. I’m averaging 6 1/2 hours a night, which I think is good for me, but only “okay” for my sleep score. Maybe that’s because I’m waking up every 2 hours. I have to get out of bed and stretch or go to the bathroom or walk around for 10 or 20 or more minutes before falling back asleep again. A thought occurred to me: could my low vision be contributing to my sleep problems? I googled it and yes, it might:
Visual impairment can lead to disturbances in the circadian rhythm20 and exacerbate neuropsychiatric conditions such as anxiety and depression, ultimately impairing central nervous system functionality and contributing to the development of insomnia21. Existing research underscores the negative impact of visual impairment on sleep patterns. Studies conducted in Russia found that individuals with visual impairment had more than twice the odds of reporting insomnia symptoms compared to those without, with this association remaining significant even after adjusting for factors such as age and gender21. This finding further confirms the link between visual dysfunction and sleep disturbances. Community research in the U.S. suggested that older adults with visual impairment are more likely to experience various sleep issues, such as difficulty falling asleep, trouble staying asleep, early morning awakenings, and daytime sleepiness22. Additionally, such individuals often report increased disrupted sleep patterns and a higher prevalence of sleep/wake disturbances23.
But, this study studied different visual impairments than I have. What about cone dystrophy or macular degeneration, which has similar effects? I looked it up and found some articles that link it, but it’s mostly about anxiety over vision loss that cause the sleep disturbances. I know I have some anxiety about the final break, when none of my cone cells work and all of my central vision is gone, but I think the connection between sleeping and not seeing or seeing differently is more complicated for me. I’ll have to ask the ophthalmologist at my appointment next month.
Yesterday it was 76 degrees, today 36. I didn’t mind; everything was dry and clear and I was able to run on all the walking trails in my new blue shoes! Today it’s overcast and both bright — a white sky — and gloomy — everything dull and bare. Did I see any shadows? I don’t think so.
I felt strong, not quite like I could run for several hours without stopping, but at least believing that it is possible. I also felt untethered from the world, everything fuzzy and me, floating above it or outside of it.
10 Things
early on, another running passing me, their feet slap slap slaping the ground
several geese honking below the ford bridge
empty benches
two women stopped on the edge of the trail near the 42nd street parking lot, talking — I couldn’t hear what they were saying
heading up the wabun hill — no one else around, just me and the dirt and the dead leaves
running through wabun: several people playing frisbee golf, two little kids running around the course, giggling
lots of traffic on ford and the river road — cars moving fast, no sunday drivers today!
a man in a bright orange jacket, sitting on the edge, above a ravine, looking out at the river
the bright headlights of a car, giving off a purple glow
a sound across the river road and the grassy boulevard — a gobbling turkey or a yelling kid? Undetermined
holes
I’m working on another holes poem — Holes 5. I’m using an essay about Rian Johnson, “Mystery Man” in the November 17, 2025 issue. My only requirement for an essay is that it contains the word hole, either as the word itself, or as part of/within another word. When I searched in “Mystery Man” for hole I found 4 instances of it including, “my wHOLE perspective,” “wHOLE time,” and “the wHOLE process.” I’m thinking these will be frame of my poem, especially Hole Time and Hole Perspective. What is my perspective (how do I see) with and from within my vision hole?
another part of my method: In addition to requiring a chosen essay has at least instance of “hole,” I read the essay from back to front. I started with the last paragraph, jotting down any words that stood out to me, then I read the second to last paragraph, then the third to last, and so on. It was a strange experience. I kept finding myself wondering, when I read a name I didn’t recognize, if I had missed the introduction/description of the name, then I remembered that I was reading back to front, from an assumption of familiarity to a not-knowingness (or not knowing yet-ness).
Here is a selection of words and phrases I jotted down:
bookshelf
stone
let me
still
strings
filters
window
flash
beauty
gathered
convivial
ends
spectrum
unexplainable
gesture
earthiness
underside
gnarled roots of a tree
feel
loop er
limitations / limit s
making diagrams with straws
an older version
flock
singular
(un) locked room
mind / mind’s eye / eye
tidy solution
make sense of it all
some measure of control over an uncontrollable world
the world has gone mad
center
puzzle
watch ed
the satisfaction of seeing
firelit
delight
smug
cringe
between
it seemed dusty
hypothetical
enters
throuhout
leap
a ghost
nobody
flock
vision
get in the way
framework
scam
everything
(r) ambling
story
distance
slanted
attention
made
backward
moving around
wonder
read
what is this?
slip away
lept
feeling trapped
peculiar
sunshine
looming
house
couldn’t see
covered in string
over
This essay is five pages long, so I’ll have to figure that out — all 5 pages, or 4 to make it fit more evenly? Or even less?
