rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


Stars are undraped, then vanish again. The water drips slower and slower as the trees dry. All afternoon it rained, and then evening brought a burst of sunlight. A blond kid brought pizza, then walked slowly back to his car as though bemused by the day's last light. Fed, I waited for darkness and went outside. Now and then a bit more rain would fall, but the storm was surely ending. The air grew colder. Now the night is still, no hawk or owl to break the silence, or fill that vacancy where the rain was. Yet nothing seems distant— not even those stars that flash and vanish.

Sunday Verse

Watered Earth

by Max Jacob

So much is hidden
In the green mist of dawn! So much joy
And misery. In the evening mist
The rose not even gone
And the dog's already bored and yawning.
In the woods as many birds as leaves.

At night thinking of poetry
I just can't sleep
Morning dew
Don't scatter my words
"You'll find them in the street
On the way to see your friends:
Between the great sad sky and everything full of yearning
The miracle will arise from the watered earth."

—translated by William Kulik

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