i klump in mod galoshes
among the enigma of raindrops
and catch metaphors
on the tip of my tongue.

Swallow into my soul
the beautiful unaccented verbiage.
as fragments of poems
wash down from the sky
in streams of kaleidoscopic complications.

As i tromp in puddles of letters
as i run down the wet serendipitous streets
of visionary realms...

Griffens hide under the umbrales
of trees glowering for they do
not like to be pelted
with the symbologies of deluges.

This make griffons mystifying
glowing leaves flutter chanting,
and skinny dip in the trellises of rain drops.
And at the end of all spelling.

i romp among the rays of the rainbows
that spring down the corridors of clouds
as unnamed poems stir & grow
up into the  clouds
and wait for the storm of creativity
to begin again in a paper sky.
and wait for the storms
of creativity to begin
and dispense  gems
to hide in heads
of uncanny eerie children
that greetings
fold space into verses