Beloved, don’t be amazed by my inner weather
It’s the calm before a sun - storm
It’s my soul-corridor turning into an empty dorm hosting unexpected guests of revelation

The quiet of my heart-corridor
Is an after-story of terror
Of course, there’s a before-story

Of the ocean of me that was once a tsunami
In it, was my death
and rebirth
It’s from the heart of this ocean-tsunami
A world of words appear
And I weave them

TURN OF THE CENTURY
(for Debbie unable to sleep)

Bright yellow flower
dazed...standing in a vase

tries to remember

a blueness of sky...lost now
beyond the great window pane.

Tries to remember
a joy of sweet falling rain

lost now on the glass

& yet...the memory of it
persists...pursues it...& yet

tries to remember
the pleasure in being a seed

roots reaching into
a sheer richness of darkness

& its opening into sun

tries...remembers the
playfulness of butterflies

clouds chasing a cloud
winds scattering tiny stars

across the beauty of a night

tries &...remembers
the wonder of a bird’s song

the sun forever
almost just...just...out of reach

the sudden silence
after the storm is gone and...and

flower bows its head.

The new young maid is scolded
for not changing the vase.

In a tearing hurry, came the clouds
bellies fat, moods dark
They swallowed the moon
They chewed the stars
     each one
          one by one
Whole night the show was on
boom bang – fury & twang

When they were done,
I surveyed my ground:
     dripping trees
          shivering leaves
               wet petals
          twinkle eyes
     an azure sky, and
One angry sun.