the embrace of rain the cold pebbles exploding on my degarnished pate the embrace of wet grass a flash and rumble soaked unpatterned pattering undisciplined splats hollowed by raw breezes the trees never asked your permission what became of the sky its vagueness as extracted from the smoke of
prayers the bobbing of an orange umbrella skittering along the road
like a stray dog what has become of emptiness ski poles’ holes
in the sand equate lions of ash splashes the whistle of a wheel forced to scrape out its rubber and empty existence
white dust blown onto the surface of the lake again with the paper rustling in the junior high mimeograph angry crinkling against
the machine of momentum an electronic birdsong but the perpetual unrhythmic
rhythm, “Why do you have to yell at me like I’m an idiot?”
pattering grows more random taken over by the
regular tap of a clock above like an encaged angel tapping on the glass to
get attention and hopefully be released
