Posted: September 16, 2014 in Uncategorized

Buzzed amid the lightening and thunder

the pelting plops of fat summer rain unconstrained

after years germinating in the dry reservoir of recent natural history.


I keep no company save myself

a garrulous hermit ascetic bon vivant a man about a town without pity

eager to sing the praises of anyone offering hope.


It’s a giving thing wells up when the fractured heavens let loose an ocean

washes away faint white lines etched in the dry dust of my face

a kabuki mask with painted tears traced upon a crying clown’s pancake makeup.


Like Ebenezer Scrooge on the day after

I have passed through Christmas Eve’s dark night of the soul

perhaps deserving some measure of redemption.


It’s a gift to myself

this morning this joy may fade like the dying storm

for now I am content mindful any gift from another is rare treasure.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s