rain

Night of dream storming

And so the rain beats comfy in the gut

Snuggled up in itself and rounded
Out like a loud joint creaking in the

Wind that feeds the curls of wayward hair
And births the life of thoughts that
Migrate like enterprising robins through

The ruts of energy that cool the livers over heated blood cells in a maze of

Wicked swirling craves that pace up and down the corners of the cell that sits in the final of the labyrinth seat of real truth

The collection of eaves that make up me that could at any minute exchange space with you or it or they that make up

You or someone and something else into a string of nothingness that is as true, although intangible like the feeing of a

Prayer soaked up on a day when pennies were raining, pitter patter, patter pitter, on the window pane.

The possibility of rain

My first sound of 2014
Was loud: water,

Soaking 2013’s tight
Twines of hope into

Something that is
Floating, now.

Rain-Drenched Night

Bogus rogue

The rain broke the

Window out in blisters

Bursting loudly on

The glass, punctuating

The house’s every step

With pangs of water

Driven through the

Thunder-frenzied

Cloud.

Tin hat

The roof pounded

Hounded to the

Sound of cat

Chasing dog and

Dog chasing cat

Catching string balls

Of silence and

Screaming them

Flat.

Stolen mother

The wet curdled wind

Whistling chinks in

The bricks , tickling

Cans and bottles while kicking

Polystyrene and papers

Up to trees bristling over over-

Grown washing sneezing

Socks to the

Breeze.

Lamp-lit quarter

Roller coasts her

Back to ground where

Sleep occurs and

Rest resounds out

Of Darkness and of

Quiet, when sharp

Noises slice unseen

Through ripe

Dream.