The Passing of Days is Unworldly

The passing of days is unworldly,

Like the worst Sunday movies, that are inexplicably brilliant.

Birds are everywhere, in the feeder, in the sky, twining their nests with the straw they drew from the stars, I even saw them do it.

And I am curved by it, first thing early morning, over my bowl of oatmeal, looking up, seeing the light on the windows and on the brick of the building that ends my yard, and in my garden, all that’s left from last year are the gray husks like conveyor belts, but it is all so fucking awesome this morning. Should it be?

I will go for my groceries of the plague, after my plague coffee and all that is the plague.

Except the cats, they own this street now, parading, greeting the universe with sun soaking driveway naps.

Is this how it feels to be home, days of reading and walking, DIY poems you post?

These days, my favorite Pandora station is Tortoise, and the song I can’t stop listening to is, Somehow the Wonder of Life Prevails, by Mark Kozelek & Jimmy LaValle.

2 thoughts on “The Passing of Days is Unworldly

  1. That second line. And then: “I even saw them do it.” If I were British I would probably call that cheeky.

    I prefer your way of marking the days to mine right now. But that song shook something loose in me. And an album called “Perils from the Sea!” The guy reading Moby Dick thanks you.

    Liked by 1 person

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