eileen chengyin chow

Pink peonies on my bedside table, a stilllife

Bought some out-of-season peonies to cure my late November blues.
But will they bloom?

Gustave Flaubert, Novembre (Verbe) - book cover with small etching of a tree in autumn rain

"Est-ce que, pour toi, les jours de soleil en hiver sont aussi tristes ? Quand il fait du brouillard, le soir, et que je marche seule, il me semble que la pluie traverse mon coeur et le fait tomber en débris."

-Gustave Flaubert, “Novembre" (1842)
#everynightapoem #ofsorts

puddles of water and fallen yellow leaves on a sidewalk in Durham, NC

Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins.

-Gustave Flaubert, 'November' (trans. Andrew Brown)
#everynightapoem

November - good riddance (except kiddo’s and friends’ birthdays)

Gustave Flaubert, Novembre (Verbe) - book cover with small etching of a tree in autumn rain

"Est-ce que, pour toi, les jours de soleil en hiver sont aussi tristes ? Quand il fait du brouillard, le soir, et que je marche seule, il me semble que la pluie traverse mon coeur et le fait tomber en débris."

-Gustave Flaubert, “Novembre" (1842)
#everynightapoem #ofsorts

puddles of water and fallen yellow leaves on a sidewalk in Durham, NC

Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins.

-Gustave Flaubert, 'November' (trans. Andrew Brown)
#everynightapoem

What Kind of Times Are These by Adrienne Rich There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted who disappeared into those shadows. I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here, our country moving closer to its own truth and dread, its own ways of making people disappear. I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods meeting the unmarked strip of light— ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise: I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear. And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these to have you listen at all, it's necessary to talk about trees.

this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.

-Adrienne Rich, What Kind of Times Are These

#everynightapoem
it's necessary to talk about trees.

Same!

Pink peonies on my bedside table, a stilllife

Bought some out-of-season peonies to cure my late November blues.
But will they bloom?

Probably worth another repost, for several reasons.

Shared with me by dear @ostadjaan:

This is one of the sayings of Muhammad:

“If you are planting a tender shoot
And the end of the world arrives
.
.
Finish planting.”

Our local organizers are amazing! Strong existing networks meant everyone could come together in the space of a few days. See poster for all the groups that mobilized together.

Thank you to @siembranc.bsky.social also for great work across NC.

Packaged bags of groceries and necessities waiting distribution

Volunteers packaging food for distribution to immigrant families in our school district

Lists of foods to distribute

Packaged bags of groceries and necessities waiting distribution

The Durham community came together and raised 100K in 48 hours; hundreds of volunteers joined in to procure, package, and distribute food and necessities to immigrant DPS families - 655 families and 13000 meals. Thank you to local organizers who led us into startling food distribution efficiency 🫶🏼

Packing food for distribution to immigrant families for Durham Public Schools community

Packing food for distribution to immigrant families for Durham Public Schools community

DURHAM COMMUNITY CARE COLLECTIVE Over 6 days, hundreds of volunteers prepared grocery bags with 23,000 meals to 1,150 families across Durham thanks to contributions from over 1,300 people, we're doing it again on Saturday

Today we packed oranges, masa flour, beans, and other produce - thank you Durham Community Care Collective organizers, and thanks to my kids for joining me!

This is so heartbreaking and horrific. The death toll is now 128. Thinking of everyone affected in Hong Kong💔

In Those Years, a poem by Adrienne Rich

Thank you for reminding me of this. Here is another of her poems which reads like a companion piece.

What Kind of Times Are These by Adrienne Rich There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted who disappeared into those shadows. I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here, our country moving closer to its own truth and dread, its own ways of making people disappear. I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods meeting the unmarked strip of light— ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise: I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear. And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these to have you listen at all, it's necessary to talk about trees.

this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.

-Adrienne Rich, What Kind of Times Are These

#everynightapoem
it's necessary to talk about trees.

THE FAMILY OF WRITERS THE SAINTLY MOTHER WITH AN UNGRATEFUL FAMILY: A MEMOIR I WISH I WAS A PRINCESS: A TALE OF REGRET THE DEAD CAT: A MYSTERY THE STUPID DOG: A NOVEL IDIOT: A BIOGRAPHY OF MY FATHER LAZY: THE STORY OF TODAY'S PAMPERED YOUTH

As ever - happy family reunion day!

The Family of Writers, by @tomgauld.bsky.social

(Postcard sent to us by then 9yo Q)

How North Carolina Rose Up Against Trump’s Latest Anti-Immigrant Crackdown “Operation Charlotte’s Web” may mobilize North Carolina’s working-class Latino members and allies to shift the political balance of power at the local, state, and national levels.

My latest, about @siembranc.bsky.social and how they organized in North Carolina to counter Operation Charlotte's Web and Border Patrol's latest anti-immigrant crackdown, co-published in @thenation.com and @southernstudies.bsky.social

www.thenation.com/article/poli...

Death toll in Hong Kong high-rise fire rises to 44, with 279 reported missing Hong Kong leader John Lee has said 36 people were reported killed in the fire that spread through a dense high-rise residential housing complex Wednesday. He said another 279 people were reported miss...

So terrible www.npr.org/2025/11/26/n...

film poster of Bugonia, with Emma Stone Jesse Plemons and Yorgos Lanthimos. Photo of a bald headed Emma Stone with honey dripping over her face

Film poster of Knives Out 3: Wake Up Dead Man, dir. Rian Johnson. Poster is ensemble cast with Daniel Craig in center, from POV of someone looking up from a coffin trench

It has been SO satisfying seeing #Bugonia and Knives Out 3: #WakeUpDeadMan in crowded cinemas and to be immersed in the screen and to hear audible gasps (from me, too).
I love going to the movies.

YouTube video by The Smiths The Smiths - Half A Person (Official Audio)

Rather charming to have all three GenZ kids blasting ‘Half A Person’ in the car and singing along and then asking, only semi-ironically:
“You know The Smiths, right?”

m.youtube.com/watch?v=sLX5...

Be seated! Wednesday, in a movie theater, to see #WakeUpDeadMan! See my pinned post for a theater finder link

film poster of Bugonia, with Emma Stone Jesse Plemons and Yorgos Lanthimos. Photo of a bald headed Emma Stone with honey dripping over her face

Film poster of Knives Out 3: Wake Up Dead Man, dir. Rian Johnson. Poster is ensemble cast with Daniel Craig in center, from POV of someone looking up from a coffin trench

It has been SO satisfying seeing #Bugonia and Knives Out 3: #WakeUpDeadMan in crowded cinemas and to be immersed in the screen and to hear audible gasps (from me, too).
I love going to the movies.

Full poem below. Image is my typing the poem out on a typewriter. The border is a line that birds cannot see. The border is a beautiful piece of paper folded carelessly in half. The border is where flint first met steel, starting a century of fires. The border is a belt that is too tight, holding things up but making it hard to breathe. The border is a rusted hinge that does not bend. The border is the blood clot in the river’s vein. The border says stop to the wind, but the wind speaks another language, and keeps going. The border is a brand, the “Double-X” of barbed wire scarred into the skin of so many. The border has always been a welcome stopping place but is now a stop sign, always red. The border is a jump rope still there even after the game is finished. The border is a real crack in an imaginary dam. The border used to be an actual place, but now, it is the act of a thousand imaginations. The border, the word border, sounds like order, but in this place they do not rhyme. The border is a handshake that becomes a squeezing contest. The border smells like cars at noon and wood smoke in the evening. The border is the place between the two pages in a book where the spine is bent too far. The border is two men in love with the same woman. The border is an equation in search of an equals sign. The border is the location of the factory where lightning and thunder are made. The border is “NoNo” The Clown, who can’t make anyone laugh. The border is a locked door that has been promoted. The border is a moat but without a castle on either side. The border has become Checkpoint Chale. The border is a place of plans constantly broken and repaired and broken. The border is mighty, but even the parting of the seas created a path, not a barrier. The border is a big, neat, clean, clear black line on a map that does not exist. The border is the line in new bifocals: below, small things get bigger; above, nothing changes. The border is a skunk with a white line down its bac…

The border is a rusted hinge that does not bend.

The border is the blood clot in the river’s vein.

The border is a handshake that becomes a squeezing contest.

-Alberto Ríos
from “The Border: A Double Sonnet” (2015)
#everynightapoem

Contra the latest NYT bit - SO MANY YOUNG PEOPLE at rallies and protests in NC. And brave ones - when they and their parents are the ones being profiled and dragged out of their cars, churches, grocery stories, school parking lots.
This is one of my Duke students. High schoolers spoke as well.

Exactly!
And there were people passing out flyers at our demonstrations too

Contra the latest NYT bit - SO MANY YOUNG PEOPLE at rallies and protests in NC. And brave ones - when they and their parents are the ones being profiled and dragged out of their cars, churches, grocery stories, school parking lots.
This is one of my Duke students. High schoolers spoke as well.

Young woman student in dance costume, sign reads My Oarents fought for my future so I will fight for theirs

Durham, NC tonight. A massive and righteously joyful crowd. So so many young people.

Cherries in a blue bowl

Cherries in a blue bowl