rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


The shopping is done for another week, and I'm back in the sultry house. The air conditioning in the stores was nice. Here I only have the windows open, and it will take all night for the house to cool down because the night itself is going to be fairly warm. Tomorrow will probably be very unpleasant. I hate when July arrives in early May. I also hate that the two windows in the den must remain closed because their screens have developed issues. One keeps popping out at the top, and the screen of the other has become detached from a section of the frame. Either one could admit mosquitoes, and I'm already itching from having been bitten when I was watering the rose bushes this evening.

The good thing is that none of the wildfires currently burning are within smelling distance of my house. Even if I can't have all the windows open until the screens are fixed, at least those that are open are not wafting a stream of smoke into the house. While there are undoubtedly worse days than this ahead, there are also much better days. Barring any sudden disaster, I'll probably live long enough yet to see some of both.

Sunday Verse


by Adam Zagajewski

In the Romanesque church round stones
that ground so many prayers and generations
kept humble silence and shadows slept in the apse
like bats in winter furs.

We went out. The pale sun shone,
tinny music tinkled softly
from a car, two jays
studied us, humans,
threads of longing dangled in the air.

The present moment is shameless,
Taking its foolish liberties
Beside the wall
Of this tired old shrine,

awaiting the millions of years to come,
future wars, geological eras,
cease-fires, treaties, changes in climate—
this moment—what is it—just

a mosquito, a fly, a speck, a scrap of breath,
entering the timid grass,
inhabiting stems and genes,
the pupils of our eyes.

This moment, mortal as you or I,
was full of boundless, senseless,
silly joy, as if it knew
something we didn't


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