Wednesday, February 24, 2010



It starts with sweep

sweet cool air o'er

plains whispering

concrete crackling

trees creaking

all damp and bitter

scent sent senses

to childhood.

Gold valleys volley

distant dissonant din

o'er plains-concrete-trees.

Smell of pavement

puckers the nose, wet of

childhood flashbacks.

Skip rope

ride bike

climb tree.

Lightning flashbacks flash

back strobing in mauve


Why bright when sky

scrapes clouds raked

o'er plains-concrete-trees?

Inevitable, the

slues of torrents of rain

to come to wash today

from today.

Memories explode with strobe

and stroke of lucks pluck your mind

like legless limbless piano teeth loose and ready.

Dangling by dandelion stems from bubble gum stuck to your shoe.





Its starting without

permission. We need

no permission to

position our hearts

aligned with Pluto

or better yet Saturn

angelic by halo.

Those deep purple

hearts throbbing on the

horizon have gathered

in Indaba o'er plains-concrete-trees.

O'er houses like ours.

The supreme moment

awaits waiting because it can.

Knowing we wait for it

in Limbo

eyes piercing the swollen bellies

of cumulo


Churning sea mist

into amethyst bubbles for eyes

waiting, no cue, to cry

for nothing in particular;

but cry it must.

Open your soul like the umbrella



Like a command from

The Controller (Cloud: burst)

the balloon

burst before us. Explosions

O'er plains-concrete-trees.

Snapping popping raindrops

plopping fizzing in the stream

making lakes

of yards and

rivers of


Returning our manufactured

way-of-things to primal

pretty natural landscapes.

Great thunderous applause

for no one in particular

send tears of joy

of self satisfaction

raining on our heads

soaking to the roots

Who is clapping for whom?

Who clears their throat so


shaking the earth

scaring the cat.

Not for me.

Not to me.

Though on they clap miles above

hidden by gray bellied whales

floating sky high lumb'ring

to find the ocean they were

born from

Why do those

gray bellied whales beach themselves

so often?

Only to whet the

land, to feed the seed and eyes

dried from crying?

A sacrifice gone unsung-

-noticed- but unsung

This is our song to you

water-whales wail

O'er plains-concrete-trees.


Like all things Earthly bound

an end must become.

A whale can not forever be

it must return to mother sea.

Starving bellies now groan:

Earth mocking them

now sated and quenched.

On distance those quaking bellies




aging to wisps

of gray hair high high

in the sky.

Sunny Sundays

slip between strands of

silver-gray hair swaying

sky high streaking


tickled morning blue.

Horizon blushes

with discomfiture of being

caught peeking

so dawn early.

Air clears of bellowing balloons

lumb'ring whales

gray-bellied whales

now forgotten.

The cloud burst breaks

the day

washing shores

dusting off sleepy winter


Eden glows under sky light

fresh baby-green

earth crinkles soaked

and unashamed

branches and leaves stretching

a good morning stretch

fold closed your

soul umbrella.

Take a deep breath

leap awake eyes agape

make no excuses nor reason

for rain claps for no one in particular.

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