Aurora
I went looking for the aurora early this morning, way before dawn. I think the first time I ever saw the aurora was just past midnight in the same town. I was walking home from work at the Science & Engineering Library. The ionized particles were splashing across the upper atmosphere in strange, coruscating streaks, stabbing south across the whole dome of the planet. If I had actually known what was really happening up there, I would have curled up in a ball and screamed. It was very exciting!
There is too much light now. I would have to drive to escape the town’s umbra.
Black Moon
My drawing lessons with moons is almost done. There is only the white moon left to finish. That will be eight of different colors. It is just for practice. I may decide to do something with them all later. There are other projects I would like to get done.
As the U.S. legal system flounders, trying to land the big lummox with the little mushroom head, the song of Storm Weather bubbled up from the morass of memory yesterday. It was the day of her theater art critic of a fellow thespian. The play closed after one night. The freak muttered under his breath in his anger and resentment of the woman spilling his tiny secrets of disappointment and brutishness. I am surprised he has been able to restrain himself from posting on Truth Social: “You know it was the best sex you ever had in your life!” Oh yeah, he can’t say that because he maintains that it didn’t happen. His cartoonish character should have steam coming out of his ears, probably just as a dribble. He is getting senile after all.
Zoos
Watch out for broken sidewalks, ’cause pain can drive you mad.
Two little boys on the green lawn, thrashing the manicure with sticks longer than they are in each hand, bushes, grass, swipe, swipe! Snipe, snipe! I wonder if the topiary gives off micro smells as each blade is injured, each leaf bruised, each petal falls. True, the dandelion puff balls they bat escape and take over elsewhere. The wind blows through the bars of cages.
The yard is edged by concrete walkways that bounce the boy’s feet back to the grass as they play. There must be watchful parental eyes someplace, herding them away from the vacant lots and fields where the dandelion puffs wind up until wild grasses cover them over, choke them out. These days the G.M.O.s abound in the muddy web of farm roads. The modified organisms are controlled by concrete for now, but they will escape one day as roots break through the walkway.