rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Time Turning with Sky

The thin rind of moon has not yet emerged from the forest, but the late summer constellations are clear tonight. Orion and Perseus are there, and the dippers, and I think that Pisces is directly overhead now. The lately turbid air has become lucid, and all the stars sparkle, and Venus gleams. Few of these warm nights remain, and I intend to enjoy them by spending as many hours as I am able watching the sky. I have shared most of this night with only a single cricket who chirps from a nearby yard. The katydids fell silent early. I did not miss them. I do not miss the sound of weekday traffic, either. Sunday, as usual, is placid. Though the night has been clear, I expect the cirrus clouds to return with dawn. It promises to be a pleasant day, as the cooling trend continues.

I did spend a bit of time on my intermittent Internet search for displays of the work of Peter Milton, and was rewarded with my first ever online view of his print called Victoria's Children, a copy of which is for sale here, along with several other of his strange and fascinating pieces. I've never seen a full-sized version of it, or any of Milton's works, and I'd dearly love to, but it's unlikely I'll get to any place where they are on display anytime soon. I'd buy one online, but the prices have gone quite beyond what I could afford. For the time being, at least, I'll have to content myself with these digital images.



Sunday Verse

HOW TO CHANGE

by Pierre Reverdy

Let somebody tell the story
      Let somebody say what happened to him
Let nobody else talk anymore
      He laughs
The street is black
Night comes softly
          And the spirit abandons itself
          To other movements
At the bottom kneeling on a heap of stones
            With hands bound
            All those who forgive
            The tortured heart
They are all still back there
            Starry-eyed
            All the names confused
            The laughs stifled
      The numbers lost
At last the brutal wind scatters them all
And he goes alone into echoless shadow
He has seen heaven wall earth water
History    remorse
           It's all forgotten
It's not the same at all anymore
At the corner     when he turns around


-translation by Kenneth Rexroth
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