rejectomorph (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rejectomorph) wrote2022-12-04 05:14 am
rejectomorph) wrote2022-12-04 05:14 am
Reset Forty-Seven, Day Five
I slept the whole middle out of Saturday, maybe six or seven hours. Later had a sandwich and tried to sleep some more but couldn't. I seem to have missed most of the rain, as we've had mostly just sprinkles since I got up, and right now the night is silent, or a silent as the mini-metropolis ever gets. I have another stomach ache, and some headache as well. It's enough to keep me distracted and unable to concentrate for long. I might soon be able to sleep again. I certainly hope so. Being conscious has grown tedious.
Sunday Verse
by Albert Goldbarth
These two asleep . . . so indrawn and compact,
like lavish origami animals returned
to slips of paper once again; and then
the paper once again become a string
of pith, a secret that the plant hums to itself. . . .
You see?—so often we envy the grandiose, the way
those small toy things of Leonardo's want to be
the great, air-conquering and miles-eating
living wings
they're modeled on. And bird flight is
amazing; simultaneously strength,
escape, caprice: the Arctic tern completes
its trip of nearly 27,000 miles every year;
a swan will frighten bears away
by angry aerial display of flapping wingspan.
But it isn't all flight; they also
fold; and at night on the water or in the eaves
they package their bodies
into their bodies, smaller, and deeply
smaller yet: migrating a similar distance
in the opposite direction.
Sunday Verse
27,000 Miles
by Albert Goldbarth
These two asleep . . . so indrawn and compact,
like lavish origami animals returned
to slips of paper once again; and then
the paper once again become a string
of pith, a secret that the plant hums to itself. . . .
You see?—so often we envy the grandiose, the way
those small toy things of Leonardo's want to be
the great, air-conquering and miles-eating
living wings
they're modeled on. And bird flight is
amazing; simultaneously strength,
escape, caprice: the Arctic tern completes
its trip of nearly 27,000 miles every year;
a swan will frighten bears away
by angry aerial display of flapping wingspan.
But it isn't all flight; they also
fold; and at night on the water or in the eaves
they package their bodies
into their bodies, smaller, and deeply
smaller yet: migrating a similar distance
in the opposite direction.
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