jan 16/RUNGETOUTICE

3.1 miles
ywca track

Ran at the y today. In the locker room, after the run, as I was pulling out my flip-flops which my sister gave me almost 10 years ago, someone else in my row of lockers called out: I love your flip-flops. They’re fucking awesome or their metal or something like that. I responded, thank you! I feel like a badass when I’m wearing them! I needed this exchange today, to connect with a stranger in this way.

my flipflops

an image remembered: running at a corner, I saw my shadow to the side, then felt another one behind me but no one there: a double shadow! Me and my shadows. It was funny because I was listening to my shadow playlist as I saw this, including the song, “Me and My Shadow.”

Get Out ICE

A march organized by a right-wing influencer is planned for Saturday, Jan. 17 in Minneapolis, according to the Minnesota Star Tribune. The event “is organized by conservative influencer Jake Lang, who has been advertising the march on X. In a post, he called for ‘crusaders’ to ‘take back’ Minnesota from Democrats. … Minneapolis Police Inspector Bill Peterson reassured residents at Tuesday’s meeting in Minneapolis that they have prepared for the event. He also noted the city is ‘hyper aware’ that the Cedar Riverside neighborhood could be a target.”

All around, confusion and mis-information. Many people are imploring others to not take the bait, and to avoid this march, which seems to designed to incite violence and lead to justification for further intervention by the Trump Administration. Others encouraging direct action in order to protect the Cedar Riverside neighborhood. It seems like a no-win situation.

jan 15/SICKICEGETOUT

I feel really knocked out today. My resting heart rate, which is usually around 55 bpm is 90 today. We’re renewing our passports online and have to take pictures of each other for the application. Yikes. Between feeling wiped out from the flu (or a cold, I’m not sure), and wiped out from the ICE occupation here in Minneapolis, I’m sure our pictures look awful. My hopeful take: a few years from now, when we’ve made it through this terrible time, we can look back and joke about how awful we looked and felt in these pictures.

ICE GET OUT

Erica Chenoweth

Scrolling through Facebook earlier today, then instagram, seeing who is posting something about ICE, who is not. Thinking about what silence means in this moment, and what a difference (at least to me) it makes to see posts acknowledging that what is happening is not okay. Also thinking about supporting businesses that are not only speaking out but actively helping, like Lynette:

We’ve gone back and forth about how transparent to be on this app. But you’re our people and we’d like you to know that one of our beloved staff members was taken this weekend. This person has legal US status, she’s a mother to a young child, works hard, came here to live the American dream and again has done everything right.

We have many ways to support. The number one being to show up for us. At Lynette we employ 40 incredible individuals, and every time you show up to services, you’re supporting them directly.

We need you now more than ever to keep us going. Please be patient with us, as we are navigating a lot of change and stress of a kind we’ve never dealt with as a community.

We’ve added some additional direct support. You can bring in bagged donations, show up to make signs, show up for conversations, bring your neighbor out for pizza and a smile.

As always, your support means the world to us and we will continue to do our best to support community as well as our family here at Lynette.

instagram post

jan 14/SICKICEGETOUT

note: I’m writing this the next day, when I feel even crappier than yesterday, both from sickness and the news that Trump might invoke the insurrection act and bring in troops to Minneapolis.

Woke up with a cold or the flu or something that made me too tired or run-down to exercise. I must really be sick; I rarely don’t run just because I have a cold.

The following was written yesterday morning, before the sickness really hit and before an ICE agent shot a person in the leg in North Minneapolis and things got even more tense.

a bridge / some steps

bridge 1

The idea of a bridge has been appearing a lot lately. First, in some favorite lines from a poem gathered this past year:

It’s not accurate to say we know
what we see. Truth is, few understand

the physics of color.

Vision

tends to end up being an imposition
more than a recognition of how the fog

consumes much of the bridge, as if nothing
is able to fully connect one side

of the Thames to the other.
(A Lexicon of Light/ George Looney)

I re-wrote these lines and turned them into a poem that offered a bridge between inner and outer color. It’s unpublished, so I’ll only post part of it:

And Vision 
can’t help us describe 
how a bridge can be 
consumed by gray fog 
yet still link two shores — 
the inner and
the outer.

It’s delightful to go back to this poem and re-read the entire thing. My version is based only the favorite lines I gathered; I didn’t remember that it was about a painting by Monet and an actual bridge over the Thames River!

Here is how Looney describes the bridge at the end of the poem:

The bridge
is more than a construction passed over

by trains and imbued with shifting colors
with the time of day. It becomes, for the artist,

a lexicon of light and all that light does
to this world.

A lexicon of light — a dictionary, a set of meanings in a language

And for me, the bridge is the link between my inner and outer world of color, where the outer world is mostly gone, replaced with the rich language (created through gathering poetic lines about color) of the inner.

bridge 2

I’d return to three thoughts:
you; the “world
we wanted to go out into,
to come to ourselves into”;
& the right form
to bridge two subjects apart
(Tall Flatsedge Notebook/ Brian Teare)

Am I reading this bit right? Does he want the bridge to separate the two thoughts/things, the you and the world we wanted to go out into? Yes, I think so. Just before these lines, he writes:

At its smallest
: matter has no ideals” : taking off my socks, I find
several flatsedge seeds hooked : no split of self
from self

So, a bridge as delivering us somewhere else, creating space and a distinction

Bridge 3

Far from something to fear, I’d say that poetry is an art form that allows us to redefine our relationship to fear by stepping in close to the facets of the world that we don’t like, or don’t understand. Often enough, these are the same things. Often enough, it is the illusion of extraordinary distance, blurring out details and shrouding motives in shadow, that makes us fearsome to one another. Not always, of course, but often enough. It’s not always possible to test out such a theory in life, but poems are built to bridge distances of all kinds: between people and events separated from one another by time, geography, temperament, and belief. A poem can even bridge the distance between the living and the dead.

Fear less / Tracy K. Smith

I read this bit about the bridge — bridge as linking, lessening distance — last night. It’s in the first chapter, “Fear Less A poem is a Tool for Careful Listening,”

steps

As I think about the bridge — literally and figuratively — I also think about how it gives us a good vantage point from above where we can see farther, but it also keeps us at a distance from what’s below us. Running on the lake street or the franklin or the ford bridge, crossing from one side to the other, I feel removed from the gorge. It becomes less of a place that I feel/hear/smell/touch and more of a landscape, only seen and admired and assessed like a work of art. To get deep in the gorge, I need steps. My favorite are the old stone steps, 112 of them, that lead down to a floodplain forest and then Longfellow Flats. Steps are less horizontal and more vertical — they lead us down — within, beside, among — into the muck (what Lasky might call, the muck of making). Of course, steps can also lead us out, but I’m more interested in how they bring us in.

jan 13/RUNICEGETOUT

4.2 miles
lena smith – river road, north / river road – lena smith, south
42 degrees / wind: 15 mph
75% puddles, sloppy ice

Yuck! Not as fun running today, dodging puddles and slick strips of snow/ice on the trail. Warmer, but windier too. Parts of the run were great — I felt strong and efficient and sturdy. Other parts of it were not as great — a few times the path was covered either in a deep puddle or uneven, slippery ice. I am glad I went, and grateful to get to see the river — which was completely open, not frozen at all — but all of it was covered in a thin fog of fear. I heard sirens a few times and wondered if someone was being taken. Just before I went out for my run, Scott told me that someone had been taken just around the corner from us sometime in the last week.

10 Things

  1. city workers trimming trees, blocking the street
  2. a thick sheet of dirty ice covering almost half of a street — from curb, to the middle
  3. black chickadees singing, cheese burger cheese burger
  4. one biker, mostly biking in the road but on the path for a brief stretch
  5. the sound of sirens across the road, lasting less than a minute
  6. the wind, howling in my ears
  7. a dog barking off in the distance
  8. the sound of water splashing up as cars drove through puddles
  9. a gray sky with no sun, then blue with sun, then gray again
  10. city workers gone, a big pile of freshly trimmed branches — narrow ones — near the curb, 3 slender orange cones near the sidewalk

Ice Get Out

There are too many terrible headlines today about what’s happening with ICE in Minnesota, and it’s one of those days when I feel too tired to talk about them. I’m tired because of the headlines, because of the gray, sloppy weather, and because I tried (unsuccessfully, for now) to use a big ice breaker to break up the slippery ice on our small driveway. I chipped away at it for 30 or 40 minutes and had some success with a small patch, but I didn’t want to injure myself (because: 51 year-old bones and joints), so I stopped. I’m sure there’s a better (as in, more effective, less hard on my body) way to deal with this ice. — there’s a metaphor in there, I think. Anyway, I can’t force myself to post details from Trump and his cronies’ terribleness today, so instead, here are two videos that I’d like to watch repeatedly of the mississippi where the ice has mostly broken up and is floating, along with foam, downstream: here, the ice is getting out.

foam and ice, getting out / 5 jan 2024
ice on the mississippi / 5 jan 2024

Fear less / Tracy K. Smith

Thank goodness for the poets! Last week, I checked out the e-book version of Tracy K. Smith’s memoir and reflection on the value of poetry, Fear less, and just now I read some of the first chapter. Hopefully tomorrow I will post some quotations and respond to her powerful words, but for now, I’ll just mention that I’m reading it.

jan 12/RUNICEGETOUT

4.25 miles
lena smith boulevard
34 degrees
path: 100% ice / road: 5% ice*

*there are so many reasons why ICE is terrible and needs to get out and should be abolished. Here’s a small one: I like thinking and writing about winter ice — how it covers the trails, what it sounds feels looks like, the different forms it takes. But now that word overwhelming means: Immigration and Customs Enforcement and hate and evil. I want my ice back! Well, maybe not the thick, jagged ice that is currently cover the entire river road and made it impossible to run on today.

Today begins the 10th year of this log. I’m so grateful that I was able to run outside to celebrate it. It has been a whole week since I’ve been able to run outside above the gorge: too slippery on the trails and sidewalks. Today the roads were mostly clear, but the paths were not. So, I ran north on Lena Smith Boulevard until it ends at Minnehaha Academy on 32nd, then turned around and ran south until I hit 38th, then back north to 32nd, then south up the hill. Halfway up, I decided to do the hill again — hill repeats! So when I got to the top (it’s a small hill, so it only took 1 minute to climb it), I turned around and ran back down it. At the bottom, I took a 45 second break then ran up it again. I did that 5 times. It felt good!

During one of my breaks, I noticed a woman across the road, on the trail, holding up a big white sign. I couldn’t read what she had written on it, but I imagine it was Abolish ICE or something about Minnesotans standing up for each other because all the cars were honking. It was wonderful, hearing all the honks, and her loud, Thank You! after they did it. I started imagining different ways I could do something like her during my daily running practice. I decided a sign or banner would be too awkward. Next I thought about pinning a sign to my jacket. Then, the idea: work with RJP to design a shirt or something I could wear that offered some sort of resistance to ICE and/or expressed my love for my city. Should it just say LOVE? Whatever it is, I want it be big and brightly colored and easy to see/read. RJP stopped by and I talked to her about it. She’s excited!

Ice Get Out, Know Your Rights

Know Your Rights

Another more accessible version:

KNOW YOUR RIGHTS:
WHAT TO DO IF YOU’RE STOPPED BY POLICE, THE FBI OR IMMIGRATION
Police are supposed to keep us safe and treat us all fairly, regardless of race, ethnicity, national origin or religion. This card provides tips for interacting with police and understanding your rights. Note: Some state laws may vary. Separate rules apply at checkpoints and when entering the U.S. (including at airports).

IF YOU ARE STOPPED FOR QUESTIONING
Upon request, show police your driver’s license, registration and proof of insurance. If an officer or immigration agent asks to look inside your car, you can refuse to consent to the search. But if police believe your car contains evidence of a crime, your car can be searched without your consent. Both drivers and passengers have the right to remain silent. If you are a passenger, you can ask if you are free to leave. If the officer says yes, sit silently or calmly leave. Even if the officer says no, you have the right to remain silent.
YOUR RIGHTS
▪ You have the right to remain silent. If you wish to exercise that right, say so out loud.
▪ You have the right to refuse to consent to a search of yourself, your car or your home.
▪ Regardless of your citizenship status, you have constitutional rights.
▪ You have the right to a lawyer if you are arrested. Ask for one immediately.
▪ You have the right to record police actions as long as you do not interfere with their activities and are not breaking any other law. Stay calm. Don’t run. Don’t argue, resist or obstruct the police, even when you are innocent or police are violating your rights. Keep your hands where police can see them. Ask if you are free to leave. If the officer says yes, calmly and silently walk away. If you are under arrest, you have a right to know why.
You have the right to remain silent and cannot be punished for refusing to answer questions. If you wish to remain silent, tell the officer out loud. In some states, you must give your name if asked to identify yourself. You do not have to consent to a search of yourself or your
belongings, but police may “pat down” your clothing if they suspect a weapon. You should not physically resist, but you have the right to refuse consent for any search. If you do consent, it can affect you later in court.

ACLU Minnesota

jan 11/RUNICEGETOUT

3 miles
ywca track

Still too slippery out on the sidewalk, so back to the y for another track workout. I don’t like running at the track as much as outside, but it’s better than the treadmill in the basement or nothing. Today it was crowded with lots of maneuvering around clueless walkers. I wasn’t angered by it, but it still took energy to speed up and shift and make sure I wasn’t running into anyone. I listened to my moment playlist and tried to stay relaxed. This year, running on the track feels strange — I struggle in the beginning to find my rhythm and my legs are sore when I’m done. But even though it was awkward and not nearly as fun as being by the gorge, it felt so good to be moving and getting my heart rate up.

Before offering so more context for future Sara, here’s a post from a former student that offers a beautiful description of the love here in Minneapolis:

LONG LIVE MINNEAPOLIS…

“…And the restaurateurs refusing ICE service;
The elected officials demanding access to detention facilities;
Long live the mutual aid runners organizing food caravans;
The hospital staff working to keep ICE away from patients and attorneys working to keep ICE out of our courts;
Long live our students pelting ICE with snowballs when they invade school grounds;
The teachers & school admins offering our youth hybrid & e-learning;
The noise makers keeping ICE awake in their hotels all night;
The generous folks handing out samosas, whistles, legal aid, hand warmers, & coffee at rallies;
Long live the immigrant rights orgs, working overtime for weeks to conduct ICE watches, coordinate legal service & comms among separated families, & prevent evictions under occupation;
The Signal coordinators fielding thousands of requests for rapid response alerts;
The artists opening their studios for poster-painting & sharing free downloads & screenprints of their images;
The city council leaders joining the frontlines despite utter exhaustion and risks to their own safety and wellbeing;
The veterans showing up at Whipple to denounce ICE’s abhorrent conduct;
The small business owners speaking out, at risk to their livelihoods;
The journalists upholding truth in the face of massive, state-sanctioned media repression & rubber bullets;
Ordinary folks braving single digit wind chills to lift their voices & march for hours;
Long live every immigrant to Minneapolis, & every child of immigrants.

Despite the truly unfathomable terror and violence unleashed by Trump and his supporters:

There are too many resistors to count. Too many resistors to thank.

We have The Many.”

More context for ICE in Minnesota

In my effort to educate myself about what’s happening in Minneapolis right now, I decided to look for more information about the latest ICE push by the US government here.

(6 January) The Trump administration has launched what officials describe as the largest federal immigration enforcement operation ever carried out, preparing to deploy as many as 2,000 federal agents and officers to the Minneapolis area for a sweeping crackdown tied in part to allegations of fraud involving Somali residents.

2,000 federal agents sent to Minneapolis area to carry out ‘largest immigration operation ever,’ ICE says

The fraud allegations have been simmering here for at least the last month, becoming very nasty, and getting so bad that it has led to violence against Somali residents:

The Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR) and its Minnesota chapter (CAIR-MN) today called on law enforcement authorities and public officials to take concrete actions to protect Somali-American day care centers and businesses that have been targeted with threats and harassment as children return to these centers in the wake of the holiday season ending.

A controversial and largely-debunked social media video of a conservative influencer showing up outside of day care centers in Minnesota has sparked a wave of copycat incidents in which white supremacists and social media influencers show up at similar institutions and demand access to children.

CAIR, CAIR-MN Call for Protection of Somali-American Day Care Centers Facing Copycat Harassment

It has also put so much pressure on Governor Walz that even though he is not directly connected to the fraud claims, he is not running for office again next year. The general sense among many Minnesotans is that the state, and Minneapolis and St. Paul, are being punished because Walz was the vice presidential candidate.

Along with the increased presence of ICE here,

The Trump administration has escalated its campaign against alleged benefits fraud, freezing social services funding for five Democratic-led states and announcing a new fraud-focused position in the Justice Department that will report directly to the White House. Officials also point, without evidence, to immigrants as the primary drivers of the fraud.

Influencer, White House welfare fraud claims are distorted, but the system has risks

added an hour or two later: Just read Heather Cox Richardson’s update on Facebook and this part was particularly pertinent:

Trump and his allies have singled out Minnesota in large part because of its large Somali-American population, represented in Congress by Omar, a lawmaker Trump has repeatedly attacked, from a population Trump has called “garbage.” As Chabeli Carrazana explained in 19th News, shortly after Christmas, right-wing YouTuber Nick Shirley posted a video that he claimed showed day care centers run by Somali Americans were taking money from the government without providing services.

The video has been widely debunked. In 2019, a state investigation found fraud taking place in the child care system and charged a number of people for defrauding the state. After that, the state tightened oversight, and state investigators have conducted unannounced visits to the day cares Shirley hit in his videos, where they found normal operations. Shirley claimed fraud when the centers would not let him in, but child care centers lock their doors and obscure the windows for the safety of the children, and would not let a strange man inside the facility to videotape.

But Trump used the frenzy to justify cutting $10 billion in antipoverty funding to five states led by Democrats—California, Colorado, Illinois, Minnesota, and New York—only to have a federal judge block his order yesterday. Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins promptly announced she was withholding $129 billion in federal funding from Minnesota, alleging fraud.

Jane Hirshfield

Revisiting Jane Hirshfield’s wonderful poem, “Interruption: An Assay” that I posted on this day in 2024 and thinking about her definitions of interruption in relation to non-interruption, then disruption, then a break — break as a pause, a momentary stopping / break as a rupture, a split, a gap — a break in the trees, a break in the limestone.

What is the difference between interruption and disruption? Looking to Hirshfield for an answer, or as Mary Oliver puts it, a suggestion, I found a discussion of the periphery vs. the center. Wow!

INTERVIEWER

Your line “less to solve than to speak of what needs solving” reminds me of Chekhov’s statement, “Art does not provide answers, it can only formulate questions correctly.” What does this mean for an artist in our specific moment? One of your earlier poems, “In Praise of Coldness,” begins with another quote from Chekhov, “If you wish to move your reader, you must write more coldly.” It is a beautiful poem. “In sorrow, pretend to be fearless,” you say. “In happiness, tremble.” How do you relate to this statement from Chekhov now, after having written equally beautiful—but not at all cold—poems in Ledger that do, I think, provide answers, despite what you’ve said. I’m thinking of poems such as “Let them Not Say,” for instance, or “On the Fifth Day.”

HIRSHFIELD

Perhaps an answer in the realm of the arts is different from the right or wrong solution we bring to a problem in chemistry or mathematics. Arts “answers,” but in that word’s other sense of response, of reply. Both the poems you’ve named are bells rung hard. They summon attention. When you see a fire, you can’t stay silent.

I, though, do feel in them Chekhov’s coldness. A poem’s meaning requires an engineered, structural soundness, not so different from that of a building or bridge. Language, syntax, verb tense, soundscape, the placing of ink and ink’s absence on a page, are material things, just as steel is. Words experienced as comprehensible, consequential, do follow rules, though they are rules that a writer, like an architect, can test, press toward their outer limits. New materials bring new shapes of meaning and feeling. Those two poems feel strongly, but they are not an uncontrolled weeping. They argue, in the old-fashioned, rhetorical sense of that word, for something that matters, and make their argument in the ways art mostly does—from the side. I think it’s a good thing that poets work far from the center of our celebrity- and economics-driven culture. From the periphery, you can see more of the whole. From the center, any view will be partial. A poem is not a frontal assault, it is the root tendrils of ivy making their way into the heart’s walls’ mortar.

A Poem is Not a Frontal Assault: An Interview with Jane Hirshfield / The Paris Review

From the periphery, you can see more of the whole. From the center, any view will be partial.

A poem is not a frontal assault, it is the root tendrils of ivy making their way into the heart ‘s walls’ mortar. Yes! Hirshfield has another poem, In Praise of Being Peripheral, that I am reminded of here. Now I want to give more attention the peripheral, but later.

jan 10/GETOUTICE

Today Minnesotans spreading love, expressing grief and anger and a message, Get the Fuck Out Ice. Refusing to turn away. Not forgetting, remembering the larger context in which these acts of terror are being done by ICE and the Trump Administration. Here’s one example of that context:

Fort Snelling

Yesterday, RJP told me that ICE had taken control of a part of Fort Snelling. My immediate reaction: that’s terrible! It was a concentration camp in the 1800s! This article bolsters my initial response:

Wednesday, the FBI took control of the H.B. Whipple Federal Building at Fort Snelling, a federal complex adjoining Minneapolis and St. Paul. The news broke at 2 p.m. when an immigration judge announced that she had to stop a hearing because the FBI was taking the building over and everyone needed to be out by 3 p.m.

Fort Snelling: The Advance Guard of Federal Invasion Since 1805

Today, Fort Snelling is doing what it was designed to do: acting as a site from which Washington can project violent power over anyone who gets in its way. Dakota people saw this in the US-Dakota War of 1862, when the U.S. deployed soldiers from Fort Snelling to do battle on the Dakota. When it forced Dakota women, children, and elders into a concentration camp down the bluff from the fort. When it expelled the Dakota from their homelands and oversaw the largest mass execution in U.S. history. 

And we are seeing it today as federal agents fan out from Fort Snelling into neighborhoods, seizing peaceable people, and reserving the right to shoot anyone, like Renee Nicole Good, who gets in their way.

Fort Snelling: The Advance Guard of Federal Invasion Since 1805

Fort Snelling. Land stolen through a fake treaty. Land once used for a concentration camp, now as a detention center. Today, three members of the house, U.S. rep. Omar, Craig, and Morrison were initially granted then denied access to the facility:

“What happened today is a blatant attempt to obstruct members of Congress from doing their oversight duties,” Omar said. “When we appropriate funds as members of Congress, we are expected by the public to do oversight, because the public requires their money be used with transparency and accountability, and what happened today is ICE agents deciding that we were no longer allowed to fulfill our constitutional duties.” 

U.S. Reps. Omar, Morrison and Craig denied access to immigration detention facility at Fort Snelling (Sahan Journal)

jan 9/RUN

3.1 miles
track
ywca

I would have liked to run outside. It was sunny, not too windy, and almost above freezing, but the sidewalks were way too icy. I tried to go out for a recon walk earlier today and only made it to the end of our sidewalk before realizing the surface conditions were terrible. I had to turn around and come home. Bummer. Fresh air might have relieved some of the anxiety I’m carrying in my body from what’s happening. At least I was able to go to the y and run on the track. Moving and working up a sweat helped some, I think.

Since I was looping around a track, I decided to listen to my “Wheeling Life” playlist.

10 Track Things

  1. an orange bucket was out on the track in its yearly spot, catching drips from a pipe
  2. a short man with white hair was walking backwards in the inner lane
  3. the gym below was empty
  4. not too many people on the track, all of them quiet
  5. in the quiet, I could hear my feet striking the track surface — I think my striking feet were the loudest thing on the track — thwack thwack thwack
  6. a woman walking fast, wearing a shirt that reminded me of scrubs — had she just gotten off a shift at a hospital?
  7. some people follow the written rules and walk in the innermost lane, some ignore them and walk in the middle (which is for runners) or in the far left lane (which is for passing)
  8. just remembered: just before entering the track, passed the woman in a scrubs shirt putting air pods in her ears
  9. very few runners — while I was running, only me and Scott — after, while walking, one other runner
  10. inside it was warm (good) and very dry (bad)

Working on a tiny (24 word) poem tentatively titled bio-regionalism, and I was thinking about something I recalled hearing from Stanley Tucci in his series on regions in Italy and their food: he said that a region/neighborhood was/is defined by anyone who was in earshot of that neighborhood’s church bells. I looked it up and found this helpful definition and video from Rick Steves. The term is campanilismo:

During Tuscany’s medieval and Renaissance prime, this region was a collection of feuding city-states dominated by rich families. To this day, Tuscans remain fiercely loyal to their home community, and are keenly aware of subtle differences between people from different cities, towns, and villages. (Italians have a wonderful word for this: campanilismo, meaning that a community consists of the people within earshot of its bell tower — campanile.)

source

I love this idea of defining a community, your home-place, by its bells. My bells are the bells of St. Thomas, just across the river.

jan 8/BIKERUN

minneapolis update: peaceful protests last night, more protests today, Noem/Trump are attempting to escalate it, Walz calls for peaceful protests and “good trouble”, FBI takes investigation away from Minnesota, public school is cancelled for rest of the week after ICE enters campus and threatens staff/students at Roosevelt High School (the threatening was yesterday, the cancellation begins today).

And, just discovered this: Renee Nicole Good was a poet who won an award for this poem: On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs

bike: 30 minutes
basement
run: 2 miles

Icy outside, so inside on the bike and the treadmill. Important to get in some exercise for stress relief. Watched clips from the US figure skating championships while I biked, listened to Mood: Energy” while I ran. Songs: Panama/ Van Halen; We Got the Beat/ Go Gos; I did Something Bad/ Taylor Swift; My Sharona/ The Knack — an at least one other song I can’t remember now. It felt good to move, especially for the second mile of my run. A few times, I felt like I was floating. The thing I remember most: my bobbing shadow off to the side, in the shadows, near the old coal shoot — yes, my house is old enough to have a coal shoot in the basement.

Wow, this poem:

[from the time we were talking]/ Henri Meschonnic

Translated from the French by Gabriella Bedetti & Don Boes

from the time we were talking
to stones
we took on their
meaning their time and now
their memory is in us it
walks in our footsteps it moves
in our warmth we no
longer distinguish
between what they say and us
the time of the stones is us and
we are full of cries that we
leave in our wake like
stones
holding on to each other
to find among them our
path

This morning, barely one day after a woman was shot and killed by ICE here in Minneapolis, this poem speaks to me in a different way than it would have the day before. Before I would have thought about the time of stones as living in geologic time or talking to/with/as stones as echoes or Kafka’s parable of Prometheus in which Prometheus becomes part of the rock (“According to the second, Prometheus, goaded by the pain of the tearing beaks, pressed himself deeper and deeper into the rock until he became one with it.”) but now I’m thinking of the stones — like Emily Dickinson’s granite lip — as tombs and the dead talking (or trying to) talk to us:

If I couldn’t thank you,
Being fast asleep,
You will know I’m trying
With my Granite lip!