rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


The sky is a mottled, starless mass, and there is wind. Birds fail to call. I listen to the leaves drop. Now that the roses are gone, the deer have lost interest in this street. I have the place to myself, but don't know what to make of it. Last evening, I heard kids playing late games on some other block, long past dark. Then, the voices seemed more distant in time than in space, but that's been true for as long as I can remember. Maybe that's why I can pass through the world as though invisible. Someday I might catch up. Then what will I do?

Sunday Verse

Meandering River:
Three Stanzas, Five Lines Each

by Tu Fu


Meandering River desolate, autumn skies deep- withered
bits of brown lotus and chestnut drift. Lamenting this

wanderer handed-down into old age is empty; White
pebbles and shoreline sand also chafe back and forth.
A wailing swan, alone, cries out in search of its kind.


Singing that which occurs, neither modern nor ancient,
my rising song only breaks against bushes and trees.
And those houses stand, in their lavish parade, countless.

I welcome this heart of ash. Dear brother, dear little
niece- why so hurt, why these tears falling like rain?


I have asked enough answers of heaven for one life.
Enough, having hemp and mulberry fields there,

to settle near South Mountain, in Tu-ling. Riding
with Li Kuang, in simple clothes, I will end my
failing years shooting phantom tigers as they appear.

-translated by David Hinton

  • Reset Forty-Seven, Day Sixty-One

    Odd how I've slipped imperceptibly into this pattern of multiple short naps each day instead of one or two longer sleeps, and spend part of each…

  • Reset Forty-Seven, Day Sixty

    Getting through the vague days with naps and snacks, not much caring that I'm not doing much, except for now and then scolding myself for being such…

  • Reset Forty-Seven, Day Fifty-Nine

    A few hours comatosery and some things that might have been dreams or daydreams, and here I am again wanting to sleep more. For Thursday's lunch I…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.