By Adrienne Rich
There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill
and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted
who disappeared into those shadows.
I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled
this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.
I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods
meeting the unmarked strip of light—
ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:
I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.
And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you
anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these
to have you listen at all, it's necessary
to talk about trees.
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It was a Pokemon Go community day on Saturday, so I took a break from home disasters to go to Cabin John Park for an hour while Paul was at Home Depot and caught several shiny Larvitar. Then we went to Washingtonian to stop at Target and I evolved a big fancy Tyranitar. Otherwise my day consisted entirely of laundry, throwing things out, and wrapping things in plastic until late evening, when I watched Jurassic Park III (the one with William H. Macy, Tea Leoni, and the dinosaur who plays the crocodile from Peter Pan only with a phone instead of a clock) with Paul and Cheryl. Three photos of my day:
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