Nocturnes

“There is an eerie sense of Panic in the air, a silent Fear and Uncertainty that comes with once-reliable faiths and truths and solid Institutions that are no longer safe to believe in...”

- Hunter S. Thompson

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Ilya Kaminsky

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Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” — Rumi

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Short of death or nirvana, the field might be found in the night, in our imagination, and in our dreams. Nights are long these days and despite the bright white snow and the generous sun, even the days feel dark. So much of our lives - nightlives.

Sometimes, it feels right to turn my back on the dark and my darkness, and keep my face toward the sun. Sometimes it feels right to lean in for a closer look, like now. From some nightborn impulse, I began writing nocturnes in early January. It dawned on me that in dark times, every work of art is a nocturne, and so, every work of art is a nocturne.

I’ve written twelve nocturnes since the start of January but I haven’t employed a lot of creativity in the kitchen. I’ve had the same three dishes on repeat. I’ve been helping out a bit at Food For All services since ICE showed up in Portland. They “deliver fresh, culturally meaningful foods to families facing food insecurity in Maine.” Last week there were over 400 families in the greater Portland area receiving deliveries from this service because they were too scared to leave their homes.

It is challenging to keep up with recognizing reality and knowing how to act in it. Good luck out there. Love you.

Here is a new poem from Minneapolis poet, Michael Bazzett, where he begins:

We live in the numbness 
of an occupied city 
where every story has another 
story curled inside its labyrinth—

“From Minneapolis in January”