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rejectomorph

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The Persistent Damp [Nov. 12th, 2017|11:14 pm]
rejectomorph
Hours of overcast and chill, and Sunday stillness broken now and then by crows squawking, have left me with a strange combination of ennui and anxiety. The turbine vent on the roof has been squeaking when there is enough breeze to turn it, as it does when it gets damp. Everything is still damp, even though there has been no rain all day. It feels like it will never be dry again, and the weather forecast adds convincing evidence that it certainly won't be dry anytime soon.

For the most part, I just feel a bit dazed. The feral cats don't seem to mind, though. They are probably just glad that the rain is over for now. As for me, I'm thinking pie might help. It probably can't hurt, in any case, and since my mind is more blank than not, I might as well turn my attention to baked triviality. With luck it will provide me with sufficient distraction from the thought of that dark sky up there that keeps threatening to fall on me.




Sunday Verse



In the Park


Maxine Kumin


You have forty-nine days between
death and rebirth if you're a Buddhist.
Even the smallest soul could swim
the English Channel in that time
or climb, like a ten-month-old child,
every step of the Washington Monument
to travel across, up, down, over or through
—you won't know till you get there which to do.

He laid on me for a few seconds
said Roscoe Black, who lived to tell
about his skirmish with a grizzly bear
in Glacier Park. He laid on me not doing anything. I could feel his heart
beating against my heart.
Never mind lie and lay, the whole world
confuses them. For Roscoe Black you might say
all forty-nine days flew by.

I was raised on the Old Testament.
In it God talks to Moses, Noah,
Samuel, and they answer.
People confer with angels. Certain
animals converse with humans.
It's a simple world, full of crossovers.
Heaven's an airy Somewhere, and God
has a nasty temper when provoked,
but if there's a Hell, little is made of it.
No longtailed Devil, no eternal fire,

and no choosing what to come back as.
When the grizzly bear appears, he lies/lays down
on atheist and zealot. In the pitch-dark
each of us waits for him in Glacier Park.
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