By John Ashbery
we could send you out there
to join the cackle squad,
but hey, that highly accomplished,
thinly regarded equestrian—well there was no way
he was going to join the others’ field trip.
Wouldn’t put his head on the table.
But here’s the thing:
They had owned great dread,
knew of a way to get away from here
through ice and smoke
always clutching her fingers, like it says
to do.
Once we were passionate about the police,
yawned in the teeth of pixels,
but a far rumor blanked us out.
We bathed in moonshine.
Now, experts disagree.
Were we unhappy or sublime?
We’ll have to wait until the next time
an angel comes rapping at the door
to rejoice docently.
(I know there’s a way to do this.)
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We had cool weather for most of Tuesday -- it was in the 60s by mid-afternoon when we walked to the beach, but I was chilly at my desk all morning after we chatted with younger son and his fiancee, who have both started their new jobs (and who went to the Guardians game tonight, though it was rained out after the 5th). We only saw one frog, one turtle, and one eagle today, but we had several hummingbirds visit.
My Voyager group minus Carol, who was visiting her grandkids in Canada, watched "Nightingale" -- an episode I did not remember at all -- then we watched the late west coast Orioles-Dodgers game, which was tense but ended gloriously, and now we're watching the season premiere of Only Murders in the Building, which I have missed! Some of the shops and entertainment at the Snohomish Block Party last weekend:
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