Still Sultry

[rejectomorph]

All day, a big ball of fire in the sky tried to kill me, but I survived. I even went to the stores, but the ball of fire still failed to kill me. Now the cool moon is shining, and a soft breeze is bringing air from the mountains. The air is warmer than my won't, but it should cool more as night passes, and after the torrid day it is already a relief. The house is of course unrelieved, and I will soon shut down the computer and turn off the lights and open all the drapes and my dark windows will look on the night like vacant eye sockets, yet still they will seem to watch me lazing in the moonlight as I listen to the slow gurgle of the hose irrigating the sweet jasmine. Let no one be home. This is no time for electricity.




Sunday Verse

Star Block

by Kay Ryan


There is no such thing
as star block.
We do not think of
locking out the light
of other galaxies.
It is light
so rinsed of impurities
(heat, for instance)
that it excites
no antibodies in us.
Yet people are
curiously soluble
in starlight.
Bathed in its
absence of insistence
their substance
loosens willingly,
their bright
designs dissolve.
Not proximity
but distance
burns us with love.