{"id":1790,"date":"2023-03-21T12:22:30","date_gmt":"2023-03-21T16:22:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/peterschireson.com\/?p=1790"},"modified":"2023-03-21T13:34:21","modified_gmt":"2023-03-21T17:34:21","slug":"pandemic-diary-excerpts","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/peterschireson.com\/pandemic-diary-excerpts\/","title":{"rendered":"Pandemic Diary Excerpts"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
Togetherness and banishment,
wife and I smoldering on the living room couch,
our tiny continent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I open the amazon packages.
She reminds me to wash my hands.
I escape into her beauty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
From the window, I watch my neighbor
kiss his dog on the mouth.
Life through a telescope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mornings are inexhaustible.
What to talk about?
Our poop vocabulary is expanding;
two current favorites:
Night Train to Memphis,
Children of a Lesser God.
Mornings are exhausting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sitting in the back yard,
a lone bird floats across my peripheral vision,
a blurred half-silhouette, like a mystic sign.
Time of lost time. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every day I walk through the neighborhood
past faceless windows and overgrown lawns.
I am hungry from morning to night.
Is it this easy to undo the world?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am a swamp of murky thoughts.
I try not to dwell, but fear creeps into me,
my body charged with mortality.
Last night, dreams filled with trees,
the trees full of crows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The house draws into itself.
I am mesmerized by my metabolism.
Life through a microscope. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
We need to move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Togetherness and banishment,
\nwife and I smoldering on the living room couch,
\nour tiny continent.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":1792,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,28],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n