Snow up north. Chilly here
Cold, really
January 30
I twirl the stem of the venetian blind
Reveal the russet day, the vinyl neigborhood
The metaphysics of daylight
Interfusion of sensory elements
My struggle, repeated
Fears repeated
Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Quarto domingo del
Tiempo ordinario
The old dog, sweet and confused
Deficates randomly
Kitchen and bedroom
Saint Francis deSales:
O God, I am in trouble
And all is not well with me
I let the poor dog out
36 degrees in Florida
The starlings scatter to the looping
Utility lines
The empty
feeders sway. The dogs wander
Listen, too,
How every pause is filled with under-notes,
Clear, silver, icy, keen, awakening tones,
Which pierce the senses, and live within the soul,
As the sharp stars pierce winter’s crystal air
And gaze upon themselves within the sea.
Shelley, Prometheus Unbound
It is not so here
It is nearly 8 a.m. Sunday
Fourth Sunday
In Ordinary Time
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