Erratic
By Paul Celan
Translated by Nikolai Popov and Heather McHugh
Evenings delve
into your eye. Lip-
picked syllables –
a lovely voiceless circle –
help the creeping star
into their ring. The stone, once
close to the temporal zones, now opens up:
my soul, you were
in the ether with all
the other
scattershot suns.
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Am tired, grumpy and generally no fun tonight and have decided to blame my period, plus the fact that I have to get up very early tomorrow because
Son also had had a violin lesson earlier, so I was already tired from running around. Though I did have a very nice lunch with
...and another at Mystic Aquarium...
...share this tank full of anemones, sea stars, sunflower stars, urchins and other tide pool visitors.
Here are poison dart frogs behind glass in the rainforest exhibit...
...and little frogs, some still with tails, outside in the wetlands.
And August is over. Seems incredible. Must get some sleep. Hope everyone is out of harm's way when the storms come up the coast! And hey, I have more Vox invites. Anyone need one?
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