the bed is nestled in disarray puffed and creased and folded
all off kilter mattresses scratched up air pad
nightstand bruised by rings of white where water collected
laptop pushing yellow light weakly through the red currant smoke
its warm and inviting your face is tingling and a soft smile lurks.

the trip and walking in the storm

          in the rain neither wet nor dry
              
               skin neither hot nor cold but feeling

                    something smooth and searing pushing on the brain

               fierce winds and acute awareness

          a new phase an evolution a transformation
    
     it flings you up but pulls you down

to that sleepy groove in the shade.

dead leaves on the windowsill and the silhouette of leaves
cast on the fading white wood and the wind
***** the torn up mesh a broken insect screen slashed up
stuck with my head in the blur and the sizzling haze
there's still sound in the skies.