it’s only life
it’s been long enough since
i cried for you last
that i had started to feel
disloyal, unkind
and then there you were
in a loaf of warm
peasant bread i baked
twice risen, imperfect
grief
grief
we conceal from each other
that grief cleaves a person in half,
like stone-fruit, still unpicked in september
it’s the same lie of pain that doesn’t end
after childbirth, of new motherhood
that nearly breaks you and leaves you empty
we forget when to plant the winter garden,
how to re-season a cast iron pan,
how to tune your fretless bass
rainy season
please find within the video of my dad’s much delayed celebration of life, held on October 17th at Roaring Camp. suspiciously, but not surprisingly, the video cuts off right before I speak and the skies opened up with rain right as we concluded…ha!
you missed me reading the memorial resolution from the Senate and Bruce closing with a wonderful reading from Grapes of Wrath, accompanied by Joe Weed and Steve Kritzer on fiddle and guitar. I’ve included the transcript of below the video.
WHEREAS, It was with immense sadness and a deep sense of loss that word was received of the death of Vincent Flores, a distinguished Californian whose character and deeds in life merit gratitude and respectful acknowledgment by the people of the State of California; and
WHEREAS, Having been born and raised in California, Vince lived a very full life, filled with laughter. He was a gifted musician and composer, an accomplished chef and chocolatier, and a passionate community activist.
WHEREAS, Throughout his life, Vince exhibited the most treasured human qualities universally recognized as true indicators of a fulfilling and meaningful life, and he was admired and appreciated for his kindness, generosity of spirit, sense of justice, love of family, passion for working to make the world a better place, and genuine capacity to share his time, humor, and talents with others; and
WHEREAS, Vince leaves to mourn his passing and celebrate his legacy his wife, Maria; his daughter and her husband, Celeste and Daniel; his son and his wife, William and Raquel; his grandsons, Dylan and Lorenzo; his granddaughter, Parker; his mother Lucretia and four siblings Diane, Ron, Linda, and Lisa; and a loving and diverse extended family and group of friends; now, therefore, be it
RESOLVED BY SENATOR JIM BEALL, That he joins the family and friends of Vincent Flores in celebrating and revering the accomplishments and legacy of a distinguished and caring individual who lived life to the fullest, whose generosity was extended to everyone without hesitation or expectation of reward, and whose spirit will live forever in the hearts and memories of all his loved ones.
Dated this 8th day of September, 2020.
Honorable Senator Jim Beall
15th Senatorial District
and:
“You don’t aim to kill nobody, Tom?”
“No. I been thinkin’, long as I’m a outlaw anyways, maybe I could — Hell, I ain’t thought it out clear, Ma. Don’ worry me now. Don’ worry me.”
They sat silent in the coal-black cave of vines. Ma said, “How’m I gonna know ’bout you? They might kill ya an’ I wouldn’ know. They might hurt ya. How’m I gonna know?”
Tom laughed uneasily, “Well, maybe like Casy says, a fella ain’t got a soul of his own, but on’y a piece of a big one — an’ then —”
“Then what, Tom?”
“Then it don’ matter. Then I’ll be all aroun’ in the dark. I’ll be ever’where — wherever you look. Wherever they’s a fight so hungry people can eat, I’ll be there. Wherever they’s a cop beatin’ up a guy, I’ll be there. If Casy knowed, why, I’ll be in the way guys yell when they’re mad an’ — I’ll be in the way kids laugh when they’re hungry an’ they know supper’s ready. An’ when our folks eat the stuff they raise an’ live in the houses they build — why, I’ll be there. See? God, I’m talkin’ like Casy. Comes of thinkin’ about him so much. Seems like I can see him sometimes.”
spirituality for atheists
smog
smog
how fitting that it was four o’clock all day,
my least favorite time - it was just
dim, like the sun never rose or set.
it rained ash and we all were so sorry
that we hadn’t tried a little sooner, a little harder,
to save ourselves from Mars.
i found a polaroid of our best boy in your glovebox,
a cheap pocket-watch hidden in your dresser drawer,
a book of mine that you borrowed for a road-trip -
the second or third copy, well-loved,
some notes you wrote to yourself last week,
saying just GO, don't look back.
and on the seventh day
🔥 Day 7 (Tuesday) - The weather cooperated the last couple of days, allowing containment to reach 17% by tonight's 6:00 press conference. Apparently there will be more controlled burns above our neighborhood, likely on Thursday when the weather is predicted to be *most* favorable. Even though the operative word is 'controlled,' I dread seeing the map light up again - it is so so stressful.
A damage assessment map (shown in the screenshot and found here 👉bit.ly/2QrK4al) was released late this afternoon. It's hard to comprehend how many homes have been destroyed in the last week. 350 or so confirmed and that number is supposed to rise significantly. The neighborhood above us is almost completely gone. Ours has so far been spared due to the heroism of firefighters. <3
creep
🔥 Day 6 (Monday) - I cannot explain what it feels like to watch the fire creep closer to our house, day by day. It seems impossible that it will be there in a week. I’ve vacillated between hope and despair and resignation today. I just wish so badly this was behind us.