Tag Archives: storms

occasional storm

  we are reborn in these deluge moments,heavens cracked open and boomingsudden protest of all this desert dry. in drops of liquid hopefrom broken cloud, redemption falls from sky.  we unfold our hands andrejoice in water only thrown, streams without stones.  It’s Quadrille Monday over at … Continue reading

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when we all can falling-star again

, I don’t wanna pan(dem)ic no more                     (no more) so        (please) just blue me a kiss bramble me a storm verb me a poem, then sky me … Continue reading

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Because I have not had my fill of falling

  , I am taking off my shoes and standing barefoot at the edge of it all once again, shouting nonsense-something to my echo-self and asking her to keep me company, fill this lonely void with laughter’s roar until the … Continue reading

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have a tiny umbrella in your pocket

, because every day carries at least one small storm.     .. In November, we poem.        

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when the wind whispers to the moon

, he says there’s a storm on the way. buckle down, get strong. she says i’m already strong. unties her belt and begins to dance.     . In November, we poem. 

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How to build a storm shelter

Make a steadfast structure of the sharpest stars. Woo a storm. Then spill a poem.   .. In November, we poem.       

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Midway through the storm

, we warm ourselves on lightning rods. We rumble thunder across our skin, begin in raindrops. We thin the skies with contemplated clouds, and sing aloud our own singed songs. We’re tornado-strong and tumbled. We’re hurricane-half -way there, and helterskeltered … Continue reading

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Poseidon’s Promise

                         Allow this naked sea to ……………………………………..rock you fast asleep, and I will hold ………………………….your storms.     .. In November, we poem.   

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breathing in syllables

(a shadorma) .. here there be dragons and rain-fire, summer storm and spring fall; the way the sky slants sideways, a small cloud of flight.   ..In November, we poem. Sometimes, in form. This one’s a shadorma.     

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The Inevitable Frailty of Umbrellas

  ..  We have yet to decide where to hide under all these colorful skins. We get ready, get set, but we’re still gonna get a little bit wet.   .. In November, we poem.   

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