Sonic Tectonic
Cold,
slanted rain pelts my window
Like
a beaded curtain swinging shut on summer
It
is dark.
Blocking
all rays reaching towards my memory
Of
a lemon filled sky in a Caribbean sea
With
white Greek bleached flour sack cloud islands to be visited
The
autumn trees make my merry moment in the sun a ghetto
A
former shadow of itself and unsubstantial, dark
Your
rivers of words about facts and fun
Have
become a downpour of abandoned feelings
Over
flooding the land of reason
Vacation
spots, if there weren’t volcanos popping up everywhere
I
hope these are harmless
Dormant
and dead with no active lava
Though
if one blows,
I
will cheer on the rain
To
cool off and harden
So
we can explore this moonscape
Navigating
what is here
Still
alive
To
thrive after some more time goes by
And
the sun returns
To
dry reason
Where
we stand
