rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Still No Balls of Fire

Cerulean evening was without trace of clouds and, though the moon was bright, and the air brisk, I expected my best chance yet to see a Taurid fireball (I've become obsessed with them!) But slowly the clouds regathered, until they crowded all the horizons, leaving only a broad reveal of starlit sky directly above. Pleasant though it was to see, and even more the cloud-caught moonlight which made of the landscape a dim and suggestive mystery, it was not what I wanted. It was like being stuck in a silent, domed church with vague angels of paint looking down, knowing I would rather be at the carnival with the dissolute, reveling crowd, watching the sinister tattooed man lick flames and leer.



Sunday Verse


Paternoster

by Jacques Prevert


Our father who art in heaven
Stay there
And we'll stay on earth
Where nearly everything is lovely
With its mysteries
Of Paris and New York
(Worth as much as the Trinity)
With its Great Wall of China
And its sticky Brighton Rock
Its river at Morlaix
And its canal at Ourcq
Its Seven Seas
And its two fountains in the Tuileries
Earth with all its saints and sinners
Earth with all its marvels
Spread before us
Offered freely
Earth with all its miseries
Which are legion
With its legionnaires and mercenaries
Its torturers and rulers
Men with riches and men in ditches
Earth with its seasons and years
Its pretty virgins and old tarts
With its straw pallets rotting in its steel cannons

Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    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.
  • 4 comments