Sunday, June 21, 2020

Everyone in a Minute Will Be Somewhere Else Entirely

My Father's Day gift from Planet!

  • Not arrived yet, the iPhone case from a photo I took of Fleabus last month 
  • she's smaller frailer since the last time I said she is smaller frailer, smaller frailer than when I typed the first part of this sentence yesterday
  • Today is the birthday of the actor who plays my long time digital avatar not only here but until recently on twitter, now replaced by Fleabus, still over on the blogroll here
  • I will never say the debranding is done (and I've abandoned no long-time gags) but enough small erasures for now, I'm guessing
  • Hymn to Life
  • This week's forgotten and just found in my stacks:


Mark Jarman

Everything’s happening on the cusp of tragedy, the tip of comedy, the pivot of event.
You want a placid life, find another planet. This one is occupied with the story’s arc:
About to happen, on the verge, horizontal. You want another planet, try the moon.
Try any of the eight, try Planet X. It’s out there somewhere, black with serenity.
How interesting will our times become? How much more interesting can they become?
A crow with something dangling from its beak flaps onto a telephone pole top, daintily,
And croaks its victory to other crows and tries to keep its morsel to itself.
A limp shape, leggy, stunned, drops from the black beak’s scissors like a rag.
We drive past, commenting, and looking upward. A sunny morning, too cold to be nesting,
Unless that is a nest the crow has seized, against the coming spring.
We’ve been at this historical site before, but not in any history we remember.
The present has been cloaked in cloud before, and not on any holy mountaintop.
To know the stars will one day fly apart so far they can’t be seen
Is almost a relief. For the future flies in one direction—toward us.
And the only way to sidestep it—the only way—is headed this way, too.
So, look. That woman’s got a child by the hand. She’s dragging him across the street.
He’s crying and she’s shouting, but we see only dumbshow. Their breath is smoke.
Will she give in and comfort him? Will he concede at last? We do not know.
Their words are smoke. In a minute they’ll be somewhere else entirely.
Everyone in a minute will be somewhere else entirely. As the crow flies.


  1. that's a good looking iphone case

    i have read with interest donnelly's 'hymn to life' - he quotes from but does not give the full text of

    Hymn To Life by Lou Andreas-Salomé

    Surely, a friend loves a friend the way
    That I love you, enigmatic life —
    Whether I rejoiced or wept with you,
    Whether you gave me joy or pain.

    I love you with all your harms;
    And if you must destroy me,
    I wrest myself from your arms,
    As a friend tears himself away from a friend’s breast.

    I embrace you with all my strength!
    Let all your flames ignite me,
    Let me in the ardor of the struggle
    Probe your enigma ever deeper.

    To live and think millennia!
    Enclose me now in both your arms:
    If you have no more joy to give me —
    Well then—there still remains your pain.

    Nietzsche's 1887 composition for chorale and orchestra using this text can be found at

  2. in hymn to life timothy donnelly writes about

    heath hens, a distinct subspecies of the prairie chicken. Once common to the coastal barrens of New Hampshire down to Virginia, they’re often thought to have been eaten in favor of wild turkey at the inaugural Thanksgiving feast.

    i am reminded of the oven bird, memorialized in the robert frost poem of the same name

    surprisingly, at least to me, the name comes not from its suitability for roasting, but rather the form of its nest resembling "an outdoor bread oven with a side opening"

    a characteristic, dome-shaped nest of clay, which resembles an old-style, wood-fired bakers' oven, and is the basis of the common name of this group of birds. Depending on the species, the nest can be located on a horizontal branch of a tree, on a post, or on the ground. The nest is constructed of mud, with plant fibers mixed in for greater strength. These materials are carried in the bill. The dome is about 12 in (30 cm) in diameter, can weigh about 9 lb (4 kg), and is kiln-like in shape, with a deep, narrow entrance. There is an inner, walled-off, nesting chamber, lined with grasses. Although old nests physically last for several years, ovenbirds construct a new structure for each brood.

    Read more: Ovenbirds - Species, Nest, Birds, and Family - JRank Articles