rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Odd

Keep seeing this this morning:
Error running style: Died in S2::run_code running EntryPage::print(): Database handle unavailable at /home/lj/cgi-bin/LJ/User.pm line 299.

Not that fond of S2 anyway. Maybe I'll go back to S1 and Generator.

Anyway.


The night turned strange on me. There were unintentional naps ripping shards from hours, and then I was wandering outside to see the waning moon, which was high and wearing fine veils of vapor. The smell of damp was in the air. All this time I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd forgotten something important, or that I'd been forgotten myself. Maybe some part of my brain has mistaken reality for a dream and given it this oddness. Maybe I didn't wake up after all.


I'm still on a Mark Strand kick. Guess what's next.



Sunday Verse


From the Long Sad Party


by Mark Strand


Someone was saying
something about shadows covering the field, about
how things pass, how one sleeps towards morning
and the morning goes.

Someone was saying
how the wind dies down but comes back,
how shells are the coffins of wind
but the weather continues.

It was a long night
and someone said something about the moon shedding its white
on the cold field, that there was nothing ahead
but more of the same.

Someone mentioned
a city she had been in before the war, a room with two candles
against a wall, someone dancing, someone watching.
We began to believe

the night would not end.
Someone was saying the music was over and no one had noticed.
Then someone said something about the planets, about the stars,
how small they were, how far away.
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