By Brian Henry
The opening (read: aperture)
is open by design (read: default),
so susceptible to departure
with the brain floating, bag of salt,
loud, malleable light, the sky profuse
in its movement from rim to vault,
an orb (read: void) open to obtuse
approach from any outer corridor
(read: vector), as if angle could produce
what sight announces as visitor,
a gravity-infected flash, or fleck,
that, focused, becomes meteor,
the surface less limit than wreck,
the eye a crash site, open to air,
onto a sky that will not reflect.
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Adam had his last final of the semester on Wednesday and had no early test, so I drove him to school around 9:30 a.m., then picked up him and Maddy and took them to California Tortilla for lunch. Daniel went to lunch with my father and played Wii bowling with him. The rest of my afternoon was about chores, fighting with a computer sync program, and trying to figure out exactly who stands where on gun control.
We had ravioli soup for dinner and watched the new episode of Arrow, though we missed so many at the start of the season that I'm having trouble getting into it (or maybe that would have happened anyway, heh). Then we watched Nashville, which I really like -- fine, it's a soap opera, but it's well acted by all the lead women and I enjoy the music. Some photos from icy Mason Neck the weekend before last, including another blurry long distance picture of a pair of nesting eagles:
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