rain poems

If the rain thinks

that this is an emergency,

can we organize it

into something like speech?


Never a mountain wanted

over rain;

its formlessness is a

repetition tho

of what no one is quite



Nothing can sleep like the

rain, whose irony is never

quite far behind.

Each drop an

erasure of what

comes before.


If the rain is an abstraction,

then each of its bodies

rise, perilously, in black and



The rain is a door

that opens and closes

like an eyelid straining

to watch,

against sleep,

its first opening.


Each drop

a revelation

to the roof.


Driving through it:

each line passes

into then becomes

an other.

The spaces in-between

are filled with something

like rain.


The rain at five o’clock

is what it is. The rain

at mid-night is something

else entirely.



One thought on “rain poems

  1. lawn boy cherishes rain
    for the greenery he so
    assiduously grooms
    public surgical demonstration
    a democratic appraisal of
    possibilities it doesn’t
    anyway bug him

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