I've seen water grow an accent spoken to me
in broken ground, as would have it downpour.
Children alighted footfalls in delirious splashes--
their shoelaces seemed to give way in a fine
flop.
A film hurled downward from the wisest cloud,
tracing the fissures spending Way.
Power lines sent their crosses in a stream of
charged black channeling voices.
A rampant discourse pulled itself toward a sun's
depravity...a sleek glint dazed the unmade face
of every seeming thing.
A flashing knot tore out of some exquisite depth
to confront...what seemed aslant because a mass
of clouds poured down.
A knot drummed by what set foot, to set off feet
that drag the rain...give it the character it could
never have otherwise.