Rain all week, off and on, and road construction— orange cones and men in hard hats holding SLOW signs remind me that that is really what I’d like to do— As if on cue, downpour diminishes into drizzle— Droplets tremble on hydrangeas. And from behind the windshield, water is fractals, multiplying; is the moment’s architecture repeated, scaled, sheerer than paint spatter.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Cusp
- Interval
- Bel Canto
- Cures
- In the Summer Capital
- The Hourglass
- Glossolalia
- Frost has silvered the grass
- Fragment of a Poem Disguised as SPAM
- Clear bulb of coral inside a paper shade,
- This
- Lament
- Kissing the Wound
- Mythos
- Fire Report
- Intermission
- Dear animal of my deepest need, you want to linger
- Ghazal, a la Cucaracha
- Heartache Ghazal
- Rituals
- Founding
- Rift
- Devotions
- Ghazal: Some ways to live
- What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
- A single falling note above
- Precaution
- Flush
- Rotary
- La Caminata
- Paradiso
- Dear nearly weightless day,
- Chance
- Ghazal of the 1 o’clock caller looking for Pomona
- Breaking the Curse
- Instructive
- Flicker
- Milflores, Milflores
- Bad Script
- Ghazal of the Eternal Return
- Provisions
- Lavender
- Letter to the Underneath
- Stories
- Flickers
- Tall Ships
- Light
- Beneath one layer, another and
- Please
- Arbor
- Landscape, with Summer Bonfires
- Yield
- Fire-stealer
- Dear language, most thick