Thursday, May 04, 2017

the time of the sun

Even the sun has its own time. Even the sun has its moments. 

The light is brilliant by eight o'clock. Beyond that it cannot be contemplated, only felt. The leafless tree is outlined with great clarity, as is its stark shadow on the ground-- the forked shadow almost as real as the tree itself.

~~~

In a small Butler's chocolate dish (which the kid must have swiped) there is some cold oil and a few strands of hair and next to them a dead cockroach that has given up the ghost, almost preserved in the wax-like liquid. Do cockroaches always die on their backs? The hair-my hair- looks more and more like its legs as time passes.  

~~~

But the sweet prairies of anarchy
And the thought that keeps my heart up
That at last, in Death's odder anarchy,
Our patterns will be broken all up.
Though precious we are momentarily, donkey,
I aspire to be broken up.

--Stevie Smith.



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