•95/ A moment of idleness, of waiting. So Pan makes paper airplanes out of drafts of old poems, old journal entries, folding the corners back neatly to ensure a soft gliding motion across the room, into the afternoon sun, away from the momentary pause of the clock ticking to itself, as the universe exhales.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
The arthritis in my knee—
—subsides a little; still, after sitting for a few moments, my leg cannot support my full weight. I limp about the house as an old man.
•One of the transplanted irises finally prepares for blossoming, after numerous seasons without flowers.