Category: Running Log

march 22/RUN

3.9 miles
wabun hill
36 degrees

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

  1. early on, another running passing me, their feet slap slap slaping the ground
  2. several geese honking below the ford bridge
  3. empty benches
  4. two women stopped on the edge of the trail near the 42nd street parking lot, talking — I couldn’t hear what they were saying
  5. heading up the wabun hill — no one else around, just me and the dirt and the dead leaves
  6. running through wabun: several people playing frisbee golf, two little kids running around the course, giggling
  7. lots of traffic on ford and the river road — cars moving fast, no sunday drivers today!
  8. a man in a bright orange jacket, sitting on the edge, above a ravine, looking out at the river
  9. the bright headlights of a car, giving off a purple glow
  10. 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:

  1. bookshelf
  2. stone
  3. let me
  4. still
  5. strings
  6. filters
  7. window
  8. flash
  9. beauty
  10. gathered
  11. convivial
  12. ends
  13. spectrum
  14. unexplainable
  15. gesture
  16. earthiness
  17. underside
  18. gnarled roots of a tree
  19. feel
  20. loop er
  21. limitations / limit s
  22. making diagrams with straws
  23. an older version
  24. flock
  25. singular
  1. (un) locked room
  2. mind / mind’s eye / eye
  3. tidy solution
  4. make sense of it all
  5. some measure of control over an uncontrollable world
  6. the world has gone mad
  7. center
  8. puzzle
  9. watch ed
  10. the satisfaction of seeing
  11. firelit
  12. delight
  13. smug
  14. cringe
  15. between
  16. it seemed dusty
  17. hypothetical
  18. enters
  19. throuhout
  20. leap
  21. a ghost
  22. nobody
  23. flock
  24. vision
  1. get in the way
  2. framework
  3. scam
  4. everything
  5. (r) ambling
  6. story
  7. distance
  8. slanted
  9. attention
  10. made
  11. backward
  12. moving around
  13. wonder
  14. read
  15. what is this?
  16. slip away
  17. lept
  18. feeling trapped
  19. peculiar
  20. sunshine
  21. looming
  22. house
  23. couldn’t see
  24. covered in string
  25. 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?

march 21/WALKGETOUTICE

walk: 120 minutes
with Scott and Delia
deep in the gorge + the winchell trail
76 degrees

I’m writing this the next morning because I took a break (mostly) from my computer and writing. So warm! I wore shorts and a short-sleeved shirt on our walk/hike! We walked through the neighborhood to the river and when we crossed the road to throw away Delia’s poop bag, we decided to take the old stone steps down to the river. The floodplain forest was filled with fallen trees and dead leaves: winter’s aftermath. The river was open and flowing. People everywhere — it wasn’t crowded, just a person walking a dog here, two people talking on a blanket there. Everyone enjoying the sun and the warm wind and the lack of ice.

I loudly misidentified a person as a wild turkey. Oh look, a wild TURKEY! Why is it that only when I am mis-seing something do I bother to say it out loud, and with such volume? It’s funny, and Scott and I laughed about it, but it is also frustrating. I sound like an idiot or mad. I said to Scott it’s funny as comedy and irony (the irony because I only declare these things when I’m very wrong).

holes

A return: the hole in Holes 1, which was the start of all of these holes — Another name for barely not blind is a hole in your vision that makes for an easy fellowship with the word. Now I’m thinking that I should tighten these poems up and make them only about reading. So, the hole in Holes 2 would be: a hole through the bottom of / the / wor / d / here / it is / unprofitable / to / have / faith / in / the / visible. And Holes 4 would be only: you look at sky, || you look at || words || you || don’t || see || the || gaping hole / and || its / graveyard / for / failed / cone / cell / s / you see / snow flake marble dust / seltzer / fizz|| a / nothing / that / is / something / not / shar/ ing / its / secrets

Get Out ICE

ICE agents are still here, but not at the levels they were a month ago. Two of the leaders that caused the most damage — Noem and Bovino — have been removed (Bovino announced his retirement the other day). Even so, the effects — psychological, physical, economic — still linger for many Minnesotas. Food is still being delivered to families afraid to leave their homes, organizations are still raising money to help people pay their rent. The stop signs around my house still declare, “STOP ICE.” The latest threat: Trump threatens to send ICE agents to airports to take over TSA jobs abandoned by workers not paid because of the partial government shutdown.

Since just after an ICE agent murdered Renee Good on 7 jan, I’ve been adding “Get Out ICE” to my log entries, both in the title and as a tag. I think it’s time to stop. A better thing to add now might be: What about the Epstein files? or Stop the war!

Mary Oliver Doc on PBS this summer!

I’m looking forward to this documentary!

“I was save by poetry. I was saved by the beauty of the world.”

I want to put MO’s idea of being saved by the beauty of the world beside the banner that Hanif Abdurraqib has above and between two door frames in this Instagram picture: “LIFE’S NOT OUT TO GET YOU” Yes! Always a good reminder.

march 20/RUNGETOUTICE

5.5 miles
the flats and back
55 degrees

Happy first day of Spring! Many years it still feels like winter, but today it was SPRING! If I didn’t have to jump over a lumps of snow I wouldn’t have remembered it snowed almost a foot less than a week ago. Wonderful weather for a run — sun and not too much wind. I wore shorts, a short sleeved shirt and a lightweight pullover which I took off right before I turned around. For half the run, bare arms and bare legs!

a regular: Daddy Long Legs! As I ran back south, he greeted me, Hello again! Does he remember me from past years, or did he think he’d already seen me once today? (he’s done that before.) I’m choosing the believe he remembers me. I wonder if he has a name for me, like I do for him?

The ice on the surface of the river has melted. Down in the flats I was able to get close — only feet away — from the surface: some foam floating on the water moving slowly south.

holes

As I told RJP, I’ve hit the point in the process of these poems where I’m beginning to doubt myself and what I’m doing. Part of it, I explained to her, is because I dwell in the almost and struggle to find how to execute the final bit and/or give it the “polish” it needs. I’m not giving up. Instead, I’m trying a different approach: cut-outs. Would ths work better if the words were cut-out — a way to isolate them — instead of encased in holes? Can I do both? What if I had some of the words encased in the holes and some cut-out? Would that make it a little less complicated and less messy + easier to execute?

The question to return to again and again: what will serve the message/meaning/intentions of the poem?

Searching for visual poetry, I found some good stuff, including this interview with Monica Ong, these great visual poems from Sarah J. Sloat, some answers to the question, what is visual poetry? and this anti-poem from  SHRIRAM SIVARAMAKRISHNAN:

bee plus see times bee

march 19/RUNGETOUTICE

4.3 miles
minnehaha falls and back
44 degrees
10% puddles

Spring! Sun! Sharp shadows! Clear paths with far less puddles! I felt strong and satisifed and at ease in my body. Well, mostly at ease. Because it’s messy out by the gorge, I wore an old pair of shoes — the ones that don’t quite work. Sometimes my gait felt awkward, my feet not hitting the ground in the right spot or in the right way.

Marveled at the river’s surface as I ran above it. So beautiful with its frozen surface. In the past, I’ve described the surface as vast or barren or eerie, surreal or otherworldly, but today other words came to mind: still, frozen, fixed, unmoving, deadened, paused, suspended. Yes! I think these words better describe its strange beauty for me. Looking at it is like looking at a film still. Looking at it feels like everything is paused, suspended in time.

10 Things

  1. gushing falls — I could hear their loud descent and see their white foam
  2. looking down at the oak savanna, tall, slender, bare branches mixed with their shadows to make a mess of lines on the snow — how much of it was actual trees, how much shadow? I couldn’t tell
  3. water dripping fast and strong over the limestone edges in the ravine at 42nd street
  4. empty benches
  5. a guy walking with a small dog and looking at his phone
  6. someone biking near the falls playing some mellow music out of speakers
  7. taking off my sweatshirt, running with bare arms, seeing a walker with bare arms too
  8. sirens in the distance, a loud, sustained whistle
  9. the walking trails are still covered in snow
  10. the gutter that was gushing water yesterday now only has trickles

Off and on throughout the run, I recited Alice Oswald’s “The Story of Falling,” sometimes reciting it in my head, sometimes out loud.

Holes

I’ve mapped some more of Holes 4 and . . . it’s a lot. Will this just look like an ugly, jumbled mess? Yesterday, talking through this with Scott, he said something like, do what serves the poem and the meaning you are trying to convey (or the effect you are trying to achieve). In terms of meaning, the words of the first section of the poem are about what I see instead of a gaping hole: shimmering, fizzy, ephemeral or elusive (hard to see, fleeting) things: snow flake marble dust, seltzer fizz, a nothing that is something not sharing its secrets. Perhaps these ephemeral things have come loose from what bound them to “normal” sight and its monitoring through tests like the amsler grid; it’s where you dwell when normal sight is not longer possible. So maybe the unraveling occurs prior to this hole? Yes, the unraveling (and vision of amsler grid as broken strings happens in 2 and 3, Does that mean that Holes 4 is all disconnected free-floating words/phrases? If so, how to make it possible for others to read it? I could place the poem near the center, around the gaping hole. I could also number the pages/sections and mark each word with a page number? Yes, I like this!

And hours later, I’m thinking more of using a distorted Amsler Grid at the center of Holes 4, and the black hole that the grid is collapsing into is the shape of blind spot.

Another mini project: can I learn how to draw decent-enough eyeballs — pupil and iris only?

amsler idea
very rough eye
poem text

Get Out ICE

This flyer about the next No Kings march came up on Facebook from Minnesota’s Lt. Gov Peggy Flanagan (and hopefully our next governor?!):

“In Minnesota, we’ve seen the federal government at its worst — and showed the world how to fight back.

Now, I’m honored that the flagship No Kings protest will be held here in the Twin Cities. Together, we’ll show Donald Trump that we don’t do kings.”

NO KINGS TWIN CITIES VOL. 3. Joan Baex Jane Fonda Maggie Rogers. March 28, 12 pm. March then rally at the State Capital.
NO KINGS TWIN CITIES VOL. 3. Joan Baex Jane Fonda Maggie Rogers. March 28, 12 pm. March then rally at the State Capital.

march 18/RUNGETOUTICE

4.3 miles
minnehaha park and back
43 degrees
25% puddles

Yesterday it was very cold. Today it is warmer, the sun is out, and everything is melting! Drip drip drips everywhere, very LOUD whooshing car wheels, puddles. At the start of the run, I wondered how long it would take before at least one of my socks would get soaked. Not long! I only made it a quarter of a mile before stepping in a big puddle. Oh well, it dried out pretty fast.

overheard: one runner to another as they encountered each other on puddly double bridge — take it easy my brother

Kids laughing and yelling on the playground; a pack of runners; the falls, gushing, a few sirens; the river with a thin sheet of gray ice looking wide and barren. Can you see it through the trees?

river view from the 38th street steps / 18 march

On my walk back home, I stopped to take some video of water dripping out of gutter. Unfortunately because of the bright light I accidentally hit slow mo so you can’t hear the wonderful dripping sound. Here’s a brief clip of it anyway:

water dripping in accidental slow mo

HOLES

Yesterday afternoon, after finishing mapping all of my word (drawing boxes around them, encasing them in circles or the shape of my blind spot) and feeling like something was missing, I had an idea: I should place the Amsler grid somewhere on the pages. I didn’t want to simply cut out a printed version of the grid and completely cover the words. What about drawing the grid on top of the words? Too difficult with my terrible vision! Then, a new idea: cut out a hole the size/form of Amsler grid’s shape (4 x 4 in) and use string as the lines for the grid. After some playing around with it, another idea: not string, but thread or wire, and make the grid broken, distorted, emerging from the hole, looking somewhat like broken guitar strings. Three of the strings will extend out across the pages, offering the path of the three sentences of the poem. A variation: create three grids, with each one corresponding to a different sentence. This idea, which I hope I can execute because I really like it, led me to think about adding an Amsler grid to all of the holes. On Holes 1 it would be the “normal” grid with my blind spot on it. I have to think more about how it would look in Holes 2 and 3. By Holes 4, it’s broken.

If you google “distorted Amsler grid” you can find some great images of warped lines and black holes caving in upon themselves. Due to risk of copyright infringement, I won’t post any, but here’s a link to one that I particularly like:

Amsler grid distorted image: the image is at the bottom of the page. It is of the grid with the outer lines appearing normal. Near the center the lines are wavy, collapsing into a big black spot in the very middle.

Some things to think about today (I’m writing this paragraph just before 10 am):

  1. how do I map the words in Holes 1, 2, and 3?
  2. where do I place the Amsler grids in Holes 2 and 3, and what will that look like?
  3. will there only be 4 Holes, or should there be more? If more, should I place them before or after Holes 4 in terms of the progression of the grid’s distortion?

Another thing that happened yesterday: I remembered that I had a large amount of oil pastels, leftovers from RJP’s obsession with them more than 10 years ago. Could I use them to color/fill in my holes? How do you use oil pastels?1

It is now 5:20 pm and I’ve spent part of the day trying something new with Holes 4. I’m using uncooked spaghetti to connect/map the words of the poem. It’s a complicated challenge, but the spaghetti is helping to visualize it more effectively.

more thoughts/questions:

  • should I split this poem into 4 instead of 3 segments?
  • should there be separate amsler grids for each section, or one grid from which different colored threads emerge and travel to the three or four different sections? if there is only one grid, should it be in the very center of the piece?
  • should the grid be just an open hole, with no evidence of a grid, just black netting and threads or wires or yarn emerging from the hole (I like wire, but is it too difficult to work with?) OR should part of the grid still remain — some white, some “normal” lines, then a hole?
  • a further thought with that last question: what if the holes (1, 2,3, and 4) documented the unraveling of the amsler grid, with it intact in Holes 1, then less intact in Holes 2 and 3, until it is gone and with broken wires in Holes 4? I love this idea; can I figure out a way to execute it?
  • returning to the thread/wire — will it work to have it stitched into the paper, where sometimes it is on the front, sometimes emerging from the back side through another hole? is this too messy and complicated? do I need to cut back on the poem, to reduce its number of words?2

A lot to think about!

holes 4 section
  1. I think I’ll start with this post: Oil Pastels for Beginners on the Faber Castell site. ↩︎
  2. I don’t want to cut any words, but it would make this easier — do I want it to be easier? Not really! ↩︎

Get Out ICE: It’s never too late to do the right thing. . . .

is something people were chanting and singing at hotels where ICE agents were staying this winter. I think it also fits as a way to describe this:

A reporter for NBC interviewed people at a gas station in a previously very pro-Trump county in Pennsylvania. Three people still support Trump, one does not. Responding to the reporter’s question, “If you could say something to President Trump and he could hear you right now, what would it be?”

“3 times! That was my bad, apparently I’m an idiot”

march 16/RUNGETOUTICE

2.3
river road, south / lena smith boulevard, north
15 degrees / feels like 0
50% snow-covered

Many of the sidewalks were completely bare and dry, almost all of the trail was covered in slick snow. In some stretches, the trail was covered with chunks of snow from the snow plows that had just passed by. Running south, with the sun and the wind at my back, and on the short strips of bare pavement, it felt good. Then I ran through a puddle. I didn’t notice that my foot was soaked for several minutes, but when I did I decided I should head home; it was cold enough that I was (mildly) concerned for my wet toes. Good call, past Sara! When I got home, one of my toes was burning.

10 Things

  1. bright BLUE sky
  2. the sounds of shoveling and scraping and snow-blowing all around
  3. at the end of each block, I encountered an almost knee-high wall of snow where the plow had come through
  4. the surface of the river looked eerie and strange, pale and spotted with chunks of ice
  5. no kids’ voices from the school playground: for preK – 5th graders, school was closed, for 6th – 12th graders e-learning — that would suck! give the big kids a snow day too, I say!
  6. the rumble of two plows approaching, first a small one, then BIG one — I moved to the far side to avoid the spray of snow
  7. I encountered a few other runners but no skiers or bikers
  8. head north, I ran into a wall of wind — ugh! howling and biting
  9. I bet it was pretty and looked very winter wonderland-y — I couldn’t tell you because I was too busy trying not to slip!
  10. if it hadn’t been for the terrible wind, my wet toes, and the slick and uneven path, it would have been a great run — even with the bad conditions, I had some wonderful moments outside

mind-body connection

On last week’s episode of the podcast Nobody Asked Us, Kara Goucher talked about how she started taking a low dose of some (unnamed) anti-anxiety medication and it’s helping with her dystonia (“a movement disorder that causes the muscles to contract. This can cause twisting motions or other movements that happen repeatedly and that aren’t under the person’s control” — Mayo Clinic). She has discussed many times on the podcast how dystonia has made it very difficult for her to run, especially on pavement.

mind body connection — watch until 15:58

This mind-body connection is fascinating to me. Does her anti-anxiety med just make her more relaxed, or does it do something more to the brain — and maybe the neural mapping of her movements?

HOLES 4

Today I’m mapping my words on a copy of the “Still Life” article. I”m trying something different. In Holes 1, 2, and 3, I taped the paper together first and then found the words and drew the holes over and around the words. Today, with such a long article, I’m finding the words and drawing holes around them first, before I tape the pieces together. Will that make a difference? Not sure, but I might switch around the order of the pages to shape how the holes look together.

I drew and colored in holes on 3 out of the 8 pages, and tried adding some color to a few. I’m wondering if some of the holes should messier, with less defined borders or jagged, rough. I have limited ability in drawing; can I push myself some more? Here’s an image of one of the pages:

a page of holes 4 / “Still Life”

march 15/SHOVELGETOUTICE

45 minutes
a foot of snow (roughly)

Bring Me the News is saying we got 8.5 inches, but that reading was from 10:30 this morning, and it has continued to snow all day, so I’m not sure how much is on the ground. I’m guessing a foot. It felt like a foot as I tried to shovel it. So heavy! I joked with a neighbor that it’s heart attack snow, which is funny until it’s not.

I wonder if it the paths will be clear enough to run above the river tomorrow? Future Sara, let us know!

holes 4

This one, which takes words from “Still Life” is my biggest one yet: 6 pages! Here’s a draft of the poem (the || represent when the words are taken from different places in the article)

you look at sky, || you look at || words || and || don’t || see || the || gaping hole || and || its || graveyard || for || failed || cone || cell || s || you see || snow flake marble dust || seltzer || fizz|| a || nothing|| that || is || something || not || shar|| ing|| its || secrets

you || can’t || exhume || the || bodies|| but || you can || make || room || for || life || in this place || where || the dead || are || interred

crack || open a grave|| with || a || new || way || of || seeing

Too much text? We’ll see!

march 14/RUNGETOUTICE

3.7 miles
locks and dam no. 1
35 degrees

One last run on clear paths before it snows tonight. The forecast predicts more than a foot of snow tonight. It will probably melt fast, which will be as much as more of a nightmare than the actual snow. Walls of snow, then mush, then jagged ice, then little lakes and puddles. Oh well, I bet it will be pretty and I might get to see someone skiing down the street!

Today’s run was good. My left knee was a bit stiff and grumbly, but otherwise I felt good. In the last mile I started to feel relaxed, with my legs and arms and the space around me in sync. I was moving through the air, hardly noticing when my feet touched down — the space between beats! I love when I run like this!

10 Things

  1. honk honk honk honking geese all around the gorge, 1: down the hill, under the ford bridge, a lone geese floating in the middle of the river
  2. geese, 2: I heard their honks first, behind me, then beside me, then in front of me — finally saw them: 2 geese flying low
  3. overheard: one runner to another: it didn’t even taste like salmon!
  4. the bells of st. thomas
  5. someone in an bright orange jacket down below, on the stretch of the winchell trail that I call the edge of the world
  6. the river surface below the ford bridge was dotted with bright white slabs of ice — a strange sight; I wish I would have brought my phone today to take a picture!
  7. an empty parking lot at the locks and dam
  8. empty benches
  9. traces of snow in the grass
  10. a laughing pileated woodpecker

HOLES

Flipping through my past New Yorkers, I found an article from the 9 june 2025 issue that looks promising. It’s called “Still Life” in the print issue and “Greenwood Cemetery’s Living Dead” in the online version. The only test for whether I can use it or not: it must have at least one use of the word hole, or of a word that contains hole. This is a long article, so I’d hope there’s at least one hole, but is there? Yes, 4!

  1. Medina extended a tape measure into the hole and said, “Six-ten.” 
  2. Usmanov and I stared down into the gaping hole, its walls marbled with grass roots.
  3.  went to Green-Wood almost every day for weeks this spring, and the most unnerving thing I saw was an enormous hunched figure, wearing a cloak, with a gaping hole for a face.  
  4. Scientists were only starting to piece together that contaminated water, not flawed character, caused cholera; that smallpox probably originated in rodents; 

I’m surprised that an article about a cemetery only has 4 mentions of holes. Isn’t a cemetery more than half holes?!

some notes as I read through the article:

One, I am reading it backwards, section by section.
Two, one rule in the cemetery: no skylarking. I looked it up, skylarking is frolicking and playing jokes on others. It’s also the name of one of my favorite XTC albums.
Three, reading the text, which I’ve put in a pages document, I’m noticing a few things about the text: the text surrounding the word or phrase that I can see sometimes looks like it is scribbled out. Sometimes it looks like it has sparkles around it that are moving — not quite flashing. The text always seems to be vibrating. How can I translate that into a texture on my blind spot
Four, as I read through the sections, I jotted down words or phrases that stood out to me:

entrance
flaming torch
welcoming
appears
mirror
ink
you’re never alone
you’re never disconnected
love
full of little secrets
inhabit
center
recreate
experience
remaining time
offer
everyone
gently
between
seeing
moment
you look at space, you look at background, you look at sky
hope
visit
already
thinking
I don’t know why
there was room
about to open up
turn and follow her gaze
staring
hands
waste
bigger picture
across
threshold
neglect and care
art
cone
cell

heart
needed
landscape
fizz
snow flake marble dust
seltzer
balance
fills up
keeps the grass
space
enough
out of the water
upkeep
grounds
public spaces
essentail
failed
possible
efficiency
requires
can
stand on a sidewalk
people who never look up
out of room
true
mapping
crevice
easy
circular
elipses
inside
walls
outside
dark
happen
here
nothing
pale-blue
cluttered
wasn’t a place
searched

certainunmarked
is now used
other-siders
skylarking
exhume
make
when you see
in place of a road
the word
down through the plywood
a plank
settling
glacial till
earth
inches from
a layer of turf
dirt
unstratified jumble of sands, cobbles, and clays
caves in on itself
all-weather
like a bird
bench
what do you want
stone slabs
a door
uncut grave
terrain
geologically
life
this is a place to inter the dead
no good place to put all the boies
walked around
faces believing
piece together
rotting
disease
inspired
crowded

By the way, as I write, the snow has started. We officially have a blizzard warning that begins around 10 pm and lasts until Monday morning.

One of the reasons I picked this article is because I wanted more land language, like grass and dirt and dust and terrain and stone slabs and sands, cobblestones, clays, caves and glacial till. I want to connect the hole in my vision with the gorge — as a landscape, and a very big hole. I think of it as a powerful metaphor for my vision loss and what comes during and after. Of course, the gorge is also the actual place I go to for my writing practice.

The word plank stood out to me because of ED’s “I felt a funeral in my Brain” — and then a plank in reason broke/and I dropped down and down — I think of ED also with the stone slabs and the dark.

And, I like crevice and opened up, inside, outside, this is a place to inter the dead, room — a gaping hole, a threshold between,

I also like fizz and snow flake marble dust, which is what the words (and what I) sometimes feel like — fly, like a bird, sky — the words, cluttered, crowded and between walls

my eyes: a graveyard for dead cone cells

you look at space
you look at sky
you look at words
and don’t see the gaping hole
and its graveyard for dead cone cells
you see
snow flake marble dust
seltzer fizz
a nothing
that is something

I’d like to keep going, but it’s time to get ready for Scott’s birthday dinner!

march 13/RUNGETOUTICE

4 miles
wabun hill and back
34 degrees

Wasn’t planning to run this late afternoon, but snow is coming and Scott was going out for a run and I got my new pair of shoes, so I decided to go for it (or get after it as Carrie Tollefson would say). Scott and I didn’t run together, just at the same time (5:45 pm) and in the same place (near the gorge). What a great run! Was it the sun and the crisp, early spring cold? The healthy food I ate for breakfast and lunch? The new shoes? I’m not sure, but I felt strong and fast and free. On my way back, I encountered a HUGE group of runners running north, all much faster than me. At some point, I heard someone call out, good job Mill City Runners! Of course, Mill City. That’s one of the biggest running groups in the twin cities. Wow, I knew they were big, but I had no idea they were that big!

I liked running in the early evening. Other than the huge group of runners, there weren’t that many people out on the trails. I noticed the light was lower, but it was too early to see any evidence of a sun about to set. The favorite thing I noticed: wild turkeys! Half a dozen grazing in the grass just north of turkey hollow, another one of them grazing in the grass between the trail and the road.

I stopped briefly at Rachel Dow Memorial Bench and took a picture of the blue water and the thin branches softening my view:

the very blue river with some bare branches on the bluff softening my view
blue / 13 march

Friday the 13th! Tonight Scott and I will do our annual tradition of watching Friday the 13th. It’s not as good as Halloween, but it has its moments.

update, 14 saturday 2026: We watched it and Scott figured noticed something neither of us had in our previous viewings of the movie (5 or 6 or more?): each of the deaths is foreshadowed by something that happened earlier in the movie: the character who is murdered on the archery field is almost hit with an arrow a few hours earlier; another character recounts a dream she had where the rain turns into a river of blood which she calls her shower dream, only a few scenes before an axe splits her skull in a shower stall; Alice (the final girl) is surprised by the town weirdo or town prophet, depending on your perspective, when she opens the door to the pantry and he emerges, calling out, you’re doomed. you’re all DOOMED!, and then hides in that same pantry later that nightonly to be found by the killer

Crazy Ralph warning the kids

Later, Scott also realized that there were connections with the murder weapon. For example: the arrow through Jack’s throat ends up at the archery range where Brenda is killed; the axe that splits Marcy’s skull is later found, bloodied, of course, by Alice in Brenda’s bed

a few memorable lines:
Jack (Kevin Bacon), about a coming storm: the wind just shifted a good 180 degrees and it’s going to tear down the valley like a son of a gun
Brenda (can’t remember the actor’s name, but Scott looked her up and she died at the age of 49 in 2007 from pancreatic cancer — my mom died at 67 from pancreatic cancer in 2009), reacting to Bill fixing the generator: what hath God wrought

HOLES

Reworking Holes 3 to allow for better spacing of the holes. Here’s the new version of the poem:

read sentences
sliced in half
with strangeness
each one glitch ing
just enough
to scramble the senses OR scramble the meaning

fall through the hole
your reading eyes find
and land in a logic
of blur and almost
on the border between
real and imagined

And here’s a photo of it:

holes 3

RJP and I went to the Textile Center and it was fun and helpful to think about translating my ideas about holes into actual fabric and textures. I found some black netting that will be helpful and another wildly color thin fabric that might work. The question now is: how to use the fabric. I’m not sure it’s can be as simple as cutting the fabric in the shape of my blind spot — that just seems like bad decoration. What I want to do is use texture to convey how I see/read and what it feels like to do these things with my blind spot. My blind spot is rarely actually visible, and when it is, it’s not a black, opaque spot.

  1. A few new ideas: cover the words where the blind spot is in plastic that you can see through, but that makes words too fuzzy to read.
  2. A lattice of twigs, gathered at the gorge, covering the blind spot — when I see these twigs, it often reminds of my scrambled central vision.
  3. Some sort of fuzzy, fluffy texture that evokes softness, which is one thing that happens to my central vision with less working cones: everything is softer, less detailed, not sharp or harsh

The key, I think, is to use texture to communicate different aspects of my new ways of seeing with hardly any cone cells: it’s fuzzy and soft; it’s vague; it seems like there’s a film over it and that I can almost see it but not quite

Get out ICE

Read about Minnesota lawyers quietly organizing to help immigrant families:

Lawyers Built a Network: MPR also reported Thursday that hundreds of Minnesota attorneys volunteered during the surge to challenge immigration detentions in federal court, creating a rapid pro bono legal network across the state. Lawyers from a wide range of practice areas stepped in, and the article describes a system that turned scattered cases into coordinated courtroom action. It is one more reminder that some of the most important resistance in this story has happened quietly, inside petitions, filings, and courtrooms.

Sean Snow on Facebook / 13 march 2026

and from the article Sean Snow is referencing:

Since the beginning of so-called “Operation Metro Surge” in December, attorneys in Minnesota have filed more than 1,000 cases challenging the legality of immigration arrests and detentions.

Many of those filings came from lawyers who don’t normally practice immigration law.

Hundreds of attorneys volunteered to help free people detained by ICE

march 12/RUNGETOUTICE

4.45 miles
the monument and back
35 degrees

Ran over the lake street bridge and to the monument today. When was the last time I ran this route? Just checked, it was 5 nov 2025. Wow! Of course, part of the reason why I haven’t run over there is because of the winter; they don’t plow the sidewalk on the bridge, and St. Paul, where the monument is, doesn’t plow their trails as well as Minneapolis. But another reason is definitely ICE; I’ve been staying closer to home with my runs because it feels safer.

Today’s run was good; I felt (mostly) strong, although my legs/feet are sore from wearing the shoes that make them hurt. It was windy and cold on the bridge, but it was beautiful. Steel gray water, open and high enough to hide the sandbars. Scattered stretches of the east and west banks were glowing with white snow. The sun was dulled by a thin layer of clouds.

10 Things

  1. drip drip drip drip — the steady drip of water falling off the bridge near the east steps
  2. graffiti — pink and orange and black block letters under the bridge
  3. I only encountered 1 or 2 people over the bridge, both walking
  4. the bells of st. thomas chiming at noon! 15 minutes later, at 12:15
  5. running above shadow falls I glimpsed a dark flash of something — a tree? no, a person
  6. with several more glances I realized the person was not hiking but running
  7. they were nearing the worn dirt trail that climbs up and out of the ravine
  8. St. Paul has replaced the port-a-potty at the edge of the monument parking lot — there is much less graffiti on this new one, and the door closes all the way — hooray!
  9. near the edge of an overlook on the east bank, staring out at the other bluff and down at the water — a hiker emerges
  10. a plaque on the bench for, “what a woman” Sharon. She was born 2 weeks after my dad was in 1941 and died in 2002 — so young!

Holes

Currently, I have 3 Holes erasure poems. Holes 1 is about my uneasy fellowship with the word. Holes 2 is about how the hole (my blind spot) makes it unprofitable to have faith in the visible. And Holes 3 is about falling through the hole into “who knows where”, on the border between the real and surreal. I need to do at least one more hole about the small holdout-of-a-hole in the very center of my vision that enables me to still read (even if that reading is slow and sometimes unreliable).

Tomorrow, RJP and I go shopping for textiles and textures at the Stashery, so today I’m working on mapping out Holes 3. I’m using “Me, Myself, and I: Helen Oyeyemi’s Novel of Cognitive Dissonance” from The New Yorker, August 25, 2025. Here is the version I just drafted:

swap the dead-eyed liturgy of
doomed vision
with shadowed acts
that leap for the light (OR flee from the light?)

read sentences
sliced in half
with strangeness
each one glitch ing
enough to let in
the improbable

fall through the hole
your reading eyes find / or your reading finds / or your eyes find
and land in a logic
of blur and almost

Is this too many words to easily/cleanly map out? Let’s find out! And if not, let’s shift the form to make it work! — several minutes pass — Okay, I mapped it, and it seems like too many words. I think I’ll save my “darling” — the line that started it all about swapping the dead-eyed liturgy for another project — a liturgy of shadowed acts and the periphery! Anyway, I’ll try to keep the rest of the poem, and figure out the rest of holes is a project tomorrow morning.

Get Out ICE and Ice

The other day I wondered when the ice would be gone from Lake Nokomis. This morning, Minneapolis Parks and Recreation Board offered a prediction!

Minneapolis Parks Water Quality staff have tracked “ice off” dates on city lakes for decades. Ice off is declared when a lake is substantially free of ice after being fully frozen.

We’re probably not setting any records like 2018 or 2024, which dominate the record books. Staff estimate we could see ice off on small lakes like Powderhorn and Loring as soon as this weekend. It will probably be a few more weeks for larger lakes.

MPRB post

Will the HUGE winter storm we’re expecting on Saturday night and all day Sunday impact the ice off date? BTW, I’m pretty sure that they used to refer to this as the ice out date; I think they’ve changed it because of the very negative association with ICE. I checked past entries on my log, and yes, that was what it was called. Negative association aside, I like ice out better than ice off.