3.1 miles
marshall loop
65 degrees
No walk breaks today. Slowly I’m building back confidence in my legs and lungs and brain. Ran through the neighborhood then over to the lake street bridge, up the marshall hill, down the summit hill past shadow falls, and back over the bridge again. On the northeast side of the bridge, 2 fire trucks and — was it an ambulance? I can’t remember. No sirens or anxious yelling. I wonder what was happening? No rowers or sparkles on the river. No pelotons or packs of runners.
Midway through the run I chanted triple berries: strawberry/blueberry/raspberry/blackberry/red berry/orange berry/green berry
Walking back, I observed a family of four on the opposite sidewalk. The voices of the two young kids were on the edge between losing their shit with joy and losing their shit with frustration over a puppy. Frustration prevailed. I could hear the little girl’s shrieks, I want to pet the puppy!, for more than a block. Passed by a house with several signs in the front yard, nestled between hostas and hydrangeas: Democracy dies when we are silent and Love is love and another one about hope. At the next house, a garage sale. A few blocks later, one kid swinging, another kid on a bike at the corner, sitting motionless and looking creepy, two dads talking about their wives and their upcoming girls’ weekend.
Hardly Creatures
I like the form Rob Macaisa Colgate creates and uses in Where Does Joy Live in the Body. It’s a series of three poem: 1. the original poem, 2. an erasure of that poem, 3. a condensed version of the erasure. Original, replica, souvenir
Where Does Joy Live in the Body/ Rob Macaisa Colgate
Original artwork: Feel free to look.
1. At the department dinner, I drink too much and spill
to Heather about my body dysmorphia. She nods, then
shrugs and laughs, carefree: It’s great to be blind.
2. I get indecisive trying to choose the most perfect avocado
while making lunch with Lorriane. When I ask for her help
she stares, gives ma wry smile. They all feel the same to my hands.
3. Alex witnesses my descentinto psychobabble as we walk
each other home from Lee’s Palace after teh Joy Division tribute concert.
The next day, they text: Lol, you make me doubt that I could read lips.
4. When I offer Leah one of my Oreos, she perks up, holds
the cookie to her nose, closes her eyes as she inhales. I can’t handle
the tast, but eventually I feel in love with the smell.
Multisensory replica: Feel free to touch, listen, taste, smell.
the art
the body
are
perfect
witnesses
to
each other’s Joy
yes
even you
Souvenir replica: Feel free to take home with you.
artbody perfect
witness each other
joy yes you
Reading the third part, I thought of my interest in condensing images and ideas to their barest form, partly because that’s how I see them and also because it makes them easier for my weak eyes to read and because it’s more possible to take them with me on a run. Cool — I want to play around with this form!