Tuesday, August 29, 2006

And it Rained

Someone somewhere has a fire going,
the heady scent of sweet soaked earth
old decaying pine.

The world offers so many forms of penetration and pleasure –
why must people need focus on skin touching skin?
The air is thickening and glows.

Ahh, and this rain.
It’s abandon – the sounds open you to a place that is a lack of place.
Just rain and a powerful, sorrowful contentment.

A drawing embrace of the kind that rather than lull you
into nervous nothings or blissful forgetting,
opens up a space of awareness where the normally

named and objectified (object-full?) world is
washed clean of its pillage-tidings.
Something seems to have broken, or broken through.

Suddenly there's an overwhelming sense of time passing
and change and growth and death – the wheel is wheeling – and it
is full of serenity and contentedness.

2 comments:

Jeremy said...

Why is that when the sky is cloudless and sun shines we call the weather beautiful, but when there are clouds and rain we call the weather awful? Is it because we are an extroverted society, where to be out in the sun and cavorting with our friends is normal, but to sit in a room alone listening to the sound of rain, isn’t?

I experience the summer as tyrannical, oppressed by the jostling crowds and the Boys of Summer with their noisy radios, shirtless arrogance and smelly armpits. But where do The Boys of Summer go in winter? Back to their caves perhaps? waiting to inflict their presence on us again next summer?

What is more beautiful than a mist- shrouded mountain? Or walking in the drizzling rain in the Fall? Or reading in our beds late at night while listening to the pattering of rain against the windows?

To admit to liking this is to be thought mad. Would that I were one of The Boys of Summer.

littlepage said...

could weather conform to thoughts?
here and there perhaps.
rowing and showing and such.
istanbul is constantinople.
so, goes the carpenter.
too true, replies the walrus.
oysters, for their part, weep.
peeping toms and silly moms.
hello then, sorry for the gibber.
end it, he says, please end it.
rowing and sowing and such.