(when it’s over)

Night after night this week I’ve lain in bed listening to the downpour, night after night the downspouts shake and the aluminum chimney sings and the roof holds up delightfully under the battering. By day my intestines are uneasy, I’m lonely in a shivering kind of way, and I worry about everything, more or less, that anyone in the world has ever worried about, but by night I have the rain to think about and the rain is always enough and always has been. I dreamed one night that I went out for a walk in it and got wet and cold, but when I woke up I was warm and dry, which is a normal way to feel in the morning but it felt extraordinary. The thing about rain is that no matter how many times it happens it seems like a miraculous phenomenon, or maybe that’s just me. I’m easily surprised and thrilled. I’m easily distressed and alarmed. In the middle is not a place I often am. Here I am in my forty-seventh year and I can’t locate the middle, though possibly I’m getting closer and just can’t tell because it’s a labyrinth and I can’t see over the walls and it’s raining so hard that I can’t hear the minotaur roaring.


 spring rain it will probably be poetry when it’s over

Advertisements

More Things Fall Out of the Sky and Disturb My Hair

and the snow (crystalline) makes it shine
and the rain makes it smell more like hair
and the wind proves that everything we do can be undone
and the sun burns light into it (the operative word being

burns)

and the leaves that have died
and been reborn as memento mori entangle themselves in it
and crumble into dust as I take out my comb

— teeth and all —

and stare at it, wondering how
the clouds get so close to earth that they’re fog
and my hair and I walk sideways

into it

 

I’d offer you everything but the barometer’s falling

salutary

.

oh, he’s poorly–his
eyes starting out of his
eyes starting out

of a cloud, convulsing
(down in the depths)
of a dream, convening

names and numbers,
nodding off
overandover he

finishes before he starts,
thaws before he freezes,
wakes before he sleeps,

all his minds left
behind right
before afterwards

in spring, shorting
the cord, the bed,
indefinite and un

defined non
non non monsieur amour
rain falls,

rain will fell you,
good morning,
poorly one

.