“Cannonading is not agreeable, but it is bearable,” Gertrude Stein writes, “but bombing from above and not very high above is mightily unpleasant.”
Drones sound like the hum of monks at prayer, are insects living in honey, can come from anywhere, out of any sky
which turns the color of worn cotton at dusk, rough hem of winter when leaves and mockingbirds hush, shadows litter the sidewalk before an empty house, fully lit, and across the street a woman places something on her porch.
Stein says during the occupation living in the country was easier than the city except for the gas and butter rations, and my feeling doesn’t have a tank at the end of it.
On the internet, photographs of German police who take off their helmets and march with protestors in solidarity or arrest 340 protestors or serve as escort.
The facts matter.
“I’m hopeful,” writes X in the comment box.
Stein says the occupying Germans were very polite, correct.
One does not feel safe
with analogies. What I think is moon is Venus, but I take a picture anyway. In this dim light it looks as if the woman bows at her doorstep.
Leave a Reply