Reset Forty-Four, Day Six

[rejectomorph]

The only reason I'm sitting here sort of awake is because a few hours ago when I was going to take a nap I got distracted, then again and again, and now here I am, fuzzy-brained and staring at blankness, wondering what to say. In truth, I'd rather be sleeping right now, even though that would probably mean waking up in darkness a few hours hence, at sad loose ends in the unfinished night. This moment I simply long for oblivion, despite any consequences. So tired beyond explication, beyond the reach of music to assuage.

Wind came up Saturday evening, and a few dead leaves from the grape vine and pokeweed began swirling about the tiny back yard, trapped behind the tall fence. It feels like the first taste of autumn. Let no fires get started this night!




Sunday Verse

A Man May Change

by Marvin Bell


As simply as a self-effacing bar of soap
escaping by indiscernible degrees in the wash water
is how a man may change
and still hour by hour continue in his job.
There in the mirror he appears to be on fire
but here at the office he is dust.
So long as there remains a little moisture in the stains,
he stands easily on the pavement
and moves fluidly through the corridors. If only one
cloud can be seen, it is enough to know of others,
and life stands on the brink. It rains
or it doesn't rain, or it rains and it rains again.
But let it go on raining for forty days and nights
or let the sun bake the ground for as long,
and it isn't life, just life, anymore, it's living.
In the meantime, in the regular weather of ordinary days,
it sometimes happens that a man has changed
so slowly that he slips away
before anyone notices
and lives and dies before anyone can find out.