The sky is alive with drumbeat rain and silver flashes and I'm being lulled by the urban surf of car tire splashes and there's a slab of honeyed ham courting bread in the kitchen but I'm too entranced and entrenched to get up and go fix it while thunder threaten-rumbles and my windowpanes shade gray as disorienting night switches shifts with ailing day cueing lamps to light too early and mouths to yawn too soon as battered flowers bow their heads and clouds obscure the moon. 2005-06-29
monsoon swoon