Gradually Then Suddenly
By Philip Schaefer
Flowers a dull pink and out of stories.
The clown in the middle of town
dances but only when the streetlights
go blank. Children puff through
the window in a way that makes their faces
an inner god. I have all these chairs
I cannot use. Only the belonging
they beg for. Consider a dead oven
then consider freedom. A heavy kite
could touch Jupiter if Jupiter existed.
Any child could become a swan
song. It doesn’t take long to weather.
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Tuesday was a day of closet-emptying, children's book-sorting, and packing figurines in the original boxes I had saved at the back of the closet. Apparently I started a calculator swap in my neighborhood Buy Nothing group, since we had two TI-83s in the house. And if anyone local needs any Vera Bradley bags, please let me know.
My Voyager group watched "Course: Oblivion" which is absolutely, utterly pointless and terrible, then Paul and I started watching Daisy Jones & the Six, which I'm enjoying enormously -- Riley Keough is wonderful and I love the music (and the Fleetwood Mac influences). Bluebells from along the canal over last weekend:
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