October 26, 2012

poem 400 of a poem a day for 2012

the beauty of an atmosphere becoming an insurrection is how its convection, blooms

with clay pots
at the ready
menially mending
fences fencing
the meniscuses need fluids
the exchanges are viscous
the thermal pressure
dynamic slip surfactants
leave a neon trail
of paper money’s
flashing gold lies
saying the weather
is going to be bad
somewhere, we
don’t know yet
but you better get
battening down
on the hatches
double knotting the sails
wrapping them tight
and coiling them
around the masts
the little harbors
with a Southwest tongue
to the sea provide
a semblance of hope
when the great spun top
of warm ocean anger
keeps coming to lace 
a ghost Summer
desperation gradient
over the fields aloft
of ice and knives
a coming Winter 
casts over us

everyone is telling you 
to keep power close by
to cup the fires in the hearth
while the raging roiling high winds
and thrown clouds 
boil into our tannic 
late leaning October minds
we might surely be trembling
if there are endless snaps and cracks
of the rain, if all that promised torrent
banes us with its heavy boughs
and ritual geometries 
like a sky born Leviticus might
grabbing hold of our divinities
painting our faces with scannable
wet sand shifting deuteronomic codes

no, the roads are out
so we listen to the television
while we still can
while we look out windows
to feel those raised whips
to see those two flags atop each other
meant to warn off the approach
of any fool hardy enough
to want to witness an angry shore
where wind and wave misbehave
tearing their sharps into everything we know
cutting deep into any containment
we might think, can withstand
low pressure and high surrender

a storm is coming
they say
so it looks like
I am going to stay
in for a few days
and listen
to the way
wind and water
scatter fire
digging at the Earth
while a bad Moon
and every river
in its path
starts rising 


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