Riding the air
In dark morning
A steady current of rain
Descends
Upon everything
The fir tree
The house roof
My dogs fur
The empty Ash tree
The fallen leaves
Brown, red, yellow, orange
The bird feeder catches the water As does the bird bath
The puddles
The street
The cement
My head

My ears hear each
Multitude of patterned drops
In apparent chaos
Reminds me of the brain
The synapses in my brain
Circuitry, each drop a connection from
Dendrite to dentride
Messages of the unknown
Of falling to earth
Of vulnerable life
Unprotected.

The unhoused, in the cool soaked air of December. Will you remain blessed?
Will you spread your joy in the patter of rain to those who bare the rain in their skin, on their dampened clothes? Adding a chill.
Will today you find some without a home
Bringing tarps, blankets, source of heat, to those who listen
To the same rain
While they shiver
And you stay in your glow with your tidy wood burning fireplace. Stay comfortable? Risk giving for giving sake. What floods of love can you share in December rather than giving to
Your precious family, the left overs, the excesses
And give to charity that make each day another day for breath in rain from the heavens. I choose the rain. I could be the one in
The open now, soaking as I pen these words.

Hoping words of love, neutrality, non-judgement and altruism be the "church" we reside in. Drop by drop.
Over a hundred different sounds of rain brought to earth by gravity, in my receiving ears, and the tiny sparkles of light reflected upon the  light from the street lamp shining upon concrete saturated by this extended morning rain.

You were the cement boots around
my ankles and I would sink beneath
your gaze screaming as I sank to the
                                                  bottom.

I saw the others the ones who failed
your questioning, your mind games
of unconscious action and reaction.

But with me, I screamed in laughter,
as I knew that you'd always let me
drown enough to be conscious of
                       your ever-changing needs.

We were the lime and the sand,
our words the water that would be
mixed together. We would be concrete
           metaphors of each other's needs..

And I found it slightly ***** when you
tried to metaphorically drown me in
                                       your mind.
I always learnt some depth to you the
                         longer you let me drown.

Last night I
Covered myself in dirt and rocks
Snuggled in to the ditch I dug myself into
Pulled up my covers of grass
Laid my head on a pillow made of gravel

i dressed in cement this morning
Crawled out of the ditch
put on my helmet and nothing could hit me
Indestructible
Cars can run me over and not break my bones
Designed to go over me unnoticed

Am I a speedbump
or a lost tire from an eighteen wheeler
That tried to bypass the rules
And ran off the road
And got covered in dirt and rocks

Infinite
whispers
of snaking
cord
either
hold me
up or
strangle me
dead
knots tied
to tight
cannot be
removed
irreversible
cement
strangling
though,
if broken
you
will
fall

You’re standing on my head
My face is flush
And wet
I’m sinking further into the cement
Until there’s nothing left

....

morning dew drops on your collar
impressing me with the zealous way the seasons drastically measure the moment it takes me
to reach forwards and brush it off
liquid winter falling onto a ***** cement
the initials 'F T' written jaggedly into the cold stone of asphalt
i wait for it to disappear, for the flicker of everything gone to fade from my vision
but it passes too quickly
i look back up and there's no one around
the street is empty and the capricious wind has ceased
a sucker for patterns i walk into a fabric store and feel my hand linger on the erratic linens
fingers paused on the peach organza sprawled like a pink bubblegum sea
and i am swept into the manic fantasies of wearing the sheer tissue-like textile into
the abdomen of your sweaty palm and sinking like a sticky sweet stripe
until you put your hand in your pocket and i spend a year inside melting
into the every thread and curve of your jean until it is nothing but disgusting sugar
everything i could be when i am hidden from sight in the dark caverns of denim pants
who knew the tongue in cheek joke would be nothing but my tongue in your mouth
touching all the way up your gums  
find me sweltering beneath the uvula wondering if i could go back
to the time i found that girl with the mountain logo sweatshirt who whistled between her teeth and hummed all the reasons i should skin my knee and kiss the salty wound because there's no greater pleasure than knowing you don't have to wait for that morning dew drop to fall from their ******* collar

you’re a sick, sick person
my little,
                old
love.

with eyes like ferocious , angry
beetles, you
chew into me and cut out
tiny,
        stinging
                       holes.

if only you knew i wasn’t invincible,
if only you knew
                              you were toxic.

the cement is wet when you bash my head
open,
and
the cement is still wet when it
rains.

Take one step forward
just one step
one step is progress
she tells me
but how do you take a step forward
when you don't know
which direction you are facing
It takes some time
to gain control
To rid myself from the concrete
But I take my first step
and the cement begins to break
it's left scars on my feet
they feel painful
but free
I'm wounded
but still standing
and which direction I'm headed
I don't yet know
but standing
is enough for now

At home we have instrument
We have task for our senses
And chore to cement company
We have duct
We have other
And we have other in practice
Home can operate with being
And can factory improvement
It has appetite and seasons
Cavern and congregation
It has gratitude and matters
Chatters and conflict
And conflict resolved
Instrument