Thursday, June 25, 2009

The Rain, Cometh

under cobalt sky--dulled by emulsified stars--we trace the windowpane, blue-swathed, & point toward God [where most we fear a stretched hand will cast the sunlight out

where the droplets
form silhouettes out of hollowed-out precipices, ogive shrouded in darkness & what disaster the sea churns, upon its torrent-belly, moons lacquered with albumen, oil * * * I am coming home to you, blue naphtha, fire song

leave your longing
light on for the sailors who’ve lost their way like so many others before the tide, a menagerie of black-grays

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