Like a forgotten
potato in the bottom of a drawstring bag
The day is almost
blind
Iris blades of the
camera sky enfolding
Sickeningly slowly
Heavy, dull light
Swampy stillness
From the heart of the
torpor
Comes the cuckoo's
eerie prophecy
Magus rain crow
Comes the thunder
Comes the certainty
of downpour
Waters of the sea
(waves of fire)
Wet
Unraveling up from
boggy gravity
Pouting
It offers a bruised
leather lip
Lapping up the kiss of rain
6/1/2001
Ingrid
Karklins