Friday, September 27, 2019

The Straight Wind

Black clouds
erased the sky
as the straight wind
blew like
a rumble
from the west
and the poles
fell and power
snapped
with lines
jumbled
like snakes
in a pit
and days went
dark
like an end-time
scene
and silence
reigned
for many nights
till power returned
and the trees
were lit
like small candles
burning bright,
crackles through
the night.

Thursday, September 12, 2019

Pensée

Writing is like weaving,
woven words like strings.
A dense tapestry of meaning,
immensely rich and strange.