An Angled Rain

I lean upon a balcony during the storm and I am not rained upon.
My breaths come wetly
And I drink inhale or sigh
As the wind, as the others
I see huddling laughing, running tip-toed
and resignedly across new-found shores
waiting on streets doppled by too-heavy clouds.
Gods and calloused Saints they pass, those who walk more heavily,
happy for the slight tree cover
and for the wind not dampening their eyes.
It is cold now, colder than summer
and more jarring for being neighborly
with scant handfuls of cool breezes.
The nights are polite in their coldness
Tolerant so far of lingering upon balconies.
Though it is raining now. When I return inside
I am half wet with dry breaths.
So I change and I sleep seeing only local finite rainbows
Against the backdrop of patter and thunder
Like things in my sleep,
In gulfs pushing up and away from the curb
Reflecting a reflection of the light that will wake me,
Dancing like the others across and over the gathered pools.

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Anxious Wake

Pinch into a dream
take grains of being
and sleep upon
above vague anxieties
maybe escape to the awning
wake eyes full
in the morning process
relearning light and Real.

The humming Gloria of waking-
each tone held long
but wavering, rolling
and ordered like the smoke
dying slowly, then we notice, and then,

- - - - -

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September 21

There is the moon in the slick
Black high-wire
garbed in the rain-
heavy leaves
as a piano drizzles down, outside.
And the window is open
expelling light in sublime white wafts
and a subtly reminding gust
ushers into the world
an ambivalent shower.

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One Eye Frowning

The hill sets early the sun
Billowing up, zealous and impatient
Hopping altitudes with glee
And reveling in the mock indecision
Taunting the setting's wash
The colour and the passion
To the last sliver, the last degree
That clipses the now deaf, silent,
Tired land of anxious heights.

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Re-Imaginings

Pockled arms, inky fingers
Moist gazes that linger
On hovering grazing touches
Singular grasps with whispered
Implications and scenes that pass
Are re-imagined imperfections
Of reclining ethereal loves
In deathlessness, slaying Gods
For pleasure and kissing lines
Round your lips
With sweet nothings such that birds fly upon.

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Love, Bibulous

That our skin is porous is a thought
We wisely avoid
When open when we so wish
And I kiss happiness into your mouth
And shoulder, neck
As my hand breaths calm into yours
Your cheek weeps joy into mine
Close approaching immediacy
All unfazed by love across the room
That I my body drink in.

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Of Stars, Sleep, and Anxiety

This Fall building off of last Fall
Indirectly but still
With more to worry about
As breathing is harder
By just enough
And I can't sleep on my back
And I never could
I love you but I can't sleep
And you don't love me you are sleeping
While that anxious thought
Stays longer than it should
Until it and my love and unrest
Dissolve with dreams of you and sunlight.

The sky has no stars
But is a solid orange-purple canopy
Heavy with secondhand lights
Too soft too see through in their multitude
Being the whole of the sky
Tasting of us, that little bit of us
Sleep while the sky hangs solid
No room for stars save the sun
Whose light we defer to.

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