Stormclouds move across my amber evening sky

Painting it shades of grey and pink and orange

As the wind blows through our window

It whistles a lonely, homesick call

As you walk through the room

Your voice is bittersweet to hear

Confusing to my heart

Tearing it apart

Chasing its tail

Because it doesn’t know what else to do

Help me take on this world of woe
I know I can't do it on my own
While people are fading and changing
I'm a permanent fixture, watching, waiting
Run your fingers down my back to keep me fixed
Eradicate my distractions with every kiss
And I'll put my hands to your face
I won't waste this precious space
I think we can do this if we are strong.
Standing in the middle of this surging throng.

Baby, don’t you love the way the storm clouds grin?
When the dark rolls in with the ocean night?
And our Mama built those sandcastles that we lived in
Every summer ‘til they washed out with the tide

Oh baby, don’t you love the way the red leaves fall?
All along the streets in those quiet towns
And they spiral down the same no matter where you are
Whipping wild in the wind onto the ground

Dear baby, did they tell you that when you were small
The place that you live now wasn’t where you called home?
Did they tell you ‘bout our Mama and the quiet hall
Where she cried after they left her all alone?

Oh babe, I hope they found a place for you somewhere
In a cottage or a castle on a hill
I hope there’s princesses and pages and a china set
And a little dress with lace and beads and frills

But baby, if you come out in the world someday
Full of so much good and still so much sin
Baby, look up as the dark rolls in with ocean tides
And we can both laugh while the storm clouds grin

i. arachnophobia; fear of spiders. more common in females than males, why at night you choke on the idea of her fingers on him, long and thin.

ii. ophidiophobia; fear of snakes, fear of being crushed alive by commitment, why in the mornings you never left your number, why you don’t call her back, why you regretted it later.

iii. acrophobia; fear of heights. why she stays out of circuses and away from people like you who would make her fall in love.

iv. agoraphobia; fear of situations where escape is difficult, fear of the plane that takes her away, fear of the open crowded space of your ribcage where paintings of her still constantly hang.

v. cynophobia; fear of dogs, fear of the graves where good noses could dig up the mistakes you have made, fear of a girl who made you want to get a puppy and settle down somewhere finally.

vi. astraphobia; fear of thunder and lightning, fear of being alone in a house that always sounded like both, the stormclouds of your histories always brewing behind flimsy doors. fear of finding her there and having her kiss you in the rain. fear she’d never come back to you again.

vii. trypanophobia; fear of injections, fear of drugs, fear of the doctor who looked into your heart and told you that your shaky hands and bad dreams were a sign that she’s crept into your sleep.

viii. social phobias; fear of social situations, fear of your father’s white knuckles on the wheel while he says, “no son of mine is a ***** like this,” fear of her mother’s judgement, fear of not being enough.

ix. pteromerhanophobia; fear of flying, fear of remembering how long it’s been since you actually felt alive, why you trembled whenever you held her tight, why one day she frightened you so bad that you left in the middle of the lonely night.

x. mysophobia; fear of germs. why you knew you’d only get her covered in dirt. why looking at yourself in the mirror always seems to hurt. why you will never be happy without being hers. out of this whole messed up world, she was the only thing pure.

Shooting stars fell in a line and danced across my eyes in quick succession
though the sun outshone them all
and who ever worshiped the stars anyway?

Then like fireflies flew north before broke,
and from the south I saw the great Diamond City
reach out above a jungle of metal concrete plastic plastic with lights
Oh! lights

Pinprick window TV stream style smiles selling streets projecting the moon for
advertising space; the population rises

Factory stormclouds only irritate umbrella stand footsteps who pretend
to hate the rain
and outshines dim sunlight baptizing all in electric glory

Candleflame prisons of light that honk through haze through
rainy Monday 6:30AM’s
choke on each others breath until we have nothing left but CO2;
dandelions inherit the earth.

Worry
Pounds like rain;
I force myself
To remember
That stormclouds
Are thick with rage
Just before they break
And calm returns to the earth
As the storm recedes,
As it will in me

Autumn in the city makes me feel lost-
Raise your voice. Shoulders back.
I bury myself, because I cannot flee-
Curve your lips. Fill your lungs.
Threads of geese passing by-
I can. I can.
Over the road, across the sky*

One year ago in a public park, wooded and frosted
with ice and the gold crunch of sleeping grass
I saw a wolf. It held my gaze. Drew near, waited.
Just the huff of our breath, little stormclouds of silver reason.

Premonition. The wolf was I. One year later,
come to tell me that I would be alright.
I can blow down even brickwork now.

Now, there's no reason these nights can't
   dissemble our daytime woes.
With bottles uncorked, we'll paint
   friendly faces on daylight foes.

                     The ground's not shaking.
                     Your breath's just ragged.
                     Faces shine and cities glow...

but, come sunrise, we're flying blind,
            while keeping our heads low.

Still I remember the time that
   we chucked that radio
from that rooftop sinking to
   street level, speakers played Manilow

                     Transistors scattered
                     Our footsteps clattered
                     Down the fire escape we'd go

laughing hard, police up in arms
          alleyways lead us home

                        We wanted
                         to up and ******* leave

                         But we're tethered
                         to this place by our heartstrings

                         So we're always
                         celebrating our defeats

                         We wanted
                          to up and ******* leave

I'm off and running in circles
   around my own lasting fears
You're off the wagon and just
   rolling dice hung on rearview mirrors

                           We're contemplating
                            on relocating
                            back to those familiar years

but sunrise comes, we're twiddling thumbs
   and hoping stormclouds clear.

Our love was another lifetime.

I do not know how to describe it,
except to say
that it wasn’t so much the sky glowed bluer
or the earth grew greener
or that I’d found God
or music.
(because aren’t they the same thing anyway?)
No,
it wasn’t like that at all.

It was more that
it didn’t matter
if the stars bled violet kryptonite
or the grass quit knowing why.
Because you would be right there with me
watching the heavens divide, a passion of
stormclouds and curtained twilights, and
the rain -a thousand soldiers
straining to free the light

and all I wanted to listen to was the way your body holds mine.

Sometimes
I'm fireproof

Sometimes
My kisses light up the sky
And I sing with the voice of a god
And my fingers stir up lightning
In the stormclouds above

Sometimes
I can silence the sun with a touch
And those solar roars sing to me
And me alone

come to me now out of darkness
don't hide your eyes behind that halo of stormclouds
leave your rain and your tears behind
you won't need them in my arms

you feel like
soft autumn rain
underneath
amber streetlights,
while stormclouds
dance above
bringing the promise
of m a g i c.

i wasn't tired until you
fell into my arms

and i wasn't tired until
i threw a thousand
weightless snowdrops
to the ground

and i didn't hurt until
the first word
and now
my home is a loud
roar of reverberations
that pass through me

(like a million spoken knives)

and i didn't understand
pain. Until your somebody
stumbled into me

and i couldn't let go
(because they were made of ash)

and i felt the weight
of so many somebodies
(suddenly)

and i began
to think

that - my existence
(the sea
the sky
and the nothing between)
manifested to
pulverize
the
planet
with
each
further
strained
breath
until
it
can
feel
each
pinprick
loss
of
life
it
enforces.

And maybe my rage
forged bellowing
stormclouds over deserts
or made rivers flow backwards
from storm surge (tear driven)
but the somebody i'm not

and the somebodies i carry

will never
be more threatening
than a fadeaway
wind that cries with the lone
wolf.

We're like two forces of nature

I am a storm cloud
That covers the sky in black
With fury that will tear apart the face of the Earth
My words are a hurricane screaming in the dark
And my eyes dam a flood that would
Erode the mountains into solute
I am the cold that freezes the ground
That cracks the road into gravel
An eruption that scorches all I touch
The kinetic energy of my soul
Is like the shower of meteors
That bombarded the beginning
Of our world
I am death

And you are the atmosphere
You are the warmth of the sun
The darkness and the moisture of the soil
That cracks open a little seed
So that a flower may face the sun
And wonder how it got so lucky
You are the breath of the ocean
And the smell of the spring
You are a bird singing at dawn
After a long, lonesome night
You are the tingle in the chest
That makes people fall in love
You are the kiss that leads
To wonderful things
You are life

But sadly, you are also pain
And no matter how many cataclyms
Occur over lifetimes
No matter how many extinctions
Happen throughout the aeons
You always find a way through that pain

You are so much stronger than I am
Far more majestic, mysterious, miraculous
Storms come and go without purpose
But life's will to survive is endless, amazing
And here we are, caught
In each other's grasp

I can't wait to whisk you up
Into the air and hold you in warmer winds
While we watch our world
Watch the stormclouds
Moving together
Falling apart
While the life underneath coalesces
Cell by cell, a beautiful algorithm

I can't wait to show you
How serene the eye of the storm can be
Instead of all the ****** little things about myself
Instead of how easily
A storm can destroy something beautiful
I can't wait to touch your face
And wash all your sorrow away
With gentle rains

I am like all other fools;
Nothing broke my heart.
My spine of brittle woven sticks
Cracked under nothing.
My lungs gave out under
Years of whistling
"Shu-Shu, Xu-Xu,
Xu-ni-de."
They had breathed in too many daydreams
And real air calcified them with the shock
Of finding it all had been delusion.

A life of smiling at babies and dogs and buttercups
Left me unprepared for their destruction
And my own ruin.
It was my own fault that I was abandoned
In the face of a tsunami of stormclouds
Barreling out of the Western sky:
The last sigh of a sun that goes there
Each day
To die.

My fingers are numb
from the cold
from the rain
pounding against the window

I press my forehead
against the cool
smooth surface
of the glass

I watch the rain drop
dripping, slipping
down the window pane
as I watch the time fly by

fascinated I stare
at the stormclouds overhead
as the thudner rolls in
and lightning lights the sky

But yet I smile
because it's been awhile
since my favorite weather
has come out to play

The sky is dark
almost as black as night
as I sit and watch
outside the window

Waiting for it to end
sad, but it can't last
I hear the thunder's silence
before the clouds clear away

I get up to go
where? I don't know
but my favorite weather has gone
And it will be back before long

If only I could banish all 
the big dark clouds 
Trust me, I would
Drown all the voices
that scream so loud
So that the whisper that
matters would be heard
clear and proud

If only I could exchange everything
with a little bit of moonlight
Believe me, I will
For that wee ray of light
I'm willing to fight
those wild stormclouds
that would arrive

Until the moon
would come back to stay
And once again
everything will be okay

Today the magpie cried 'salvation'
As I woke to tangled sheets
Binding bare, shaking legs.
My bed released me hesitantly,
Reluctant to entrust me to the day's devices.
Stormclouds buzz behind grey eyes
That vacantly watch steam rise in wisps
From a cup clutched in trembling hands.
Marshal the troupes,
Pen, paper, caffeine fix in hand,
An orderly retreat into the inner sanctum.
Today the magpie cried in dawn light.
I rolled over and went back to sleep.

h.f.m.

The swimming pool in Kansas.
Grey eyes!
Your hand brushed mine;
The water was cool and there were chestnut-coloured butterflies in the air.
Stormclouds.
It rained and we kissed eyes-closed in the car-park under an elm tree.
No communication, only a shared moment and then into the night you walked; walked away, away.

I miss Marseille,
today,
though I can still see her,
I know I'll soon be on my way.

The dusty rock,
the hills embrace her,
the wisps of mist,
I miss Marseille,

her way, an understanding that:
if you can't, you don't pay -
prix libre they say -
associations of the worlds strays.

I miss Marseille
and hearing what she has to say,
on walls, from squats,
saying what's often neglected, forgot.

She's frank and clear
and has time for every kind of queer,
I long for her to lead me astray,
to change; I miss Marseille.

Always. The Sun,
the passage of the days,
anticipation at reaching ever corner,
a confluence of culture, Marseille the forum.

Tunis, Algiers; I can smell
the North of Africa,
hear the sails of all the boats
that traffic her,

I see them line the shores
of every bay
that twist and turn along Marseille,
Swigging from my bottle of beaujolais.

****, I miss it.
Just the thought, I can barely resist it,
I could pack it all up and leave today,
For Le Plein, Cours Julien, For alive Marseille

It belongs to all it's people, to us
and if you try to take it
watch the fuss,
the fury and the disorey,

****, I ******* Love Marseille.
Everyone's on the cusp of Love & Hate,
either knocking on or burning down the gate,
all indulging in their collective fates.

Now, a Picon beer with a slow sunset,
please know, I have not one regret,
just lessons from my passions
and ideas from everyday chic/schlague fashion

I will miss your elevator kisses,
your smile in the stormclouds,
the lightning,
so exciting and frightning.

I loved it when you hated something:
The tourists, Men suffocating the street.
I loved seeing how you could eat,
you will always be an inspiration

So, it will be fine, okay?
So long, Marseille,
with your West facing bay,
you are forever blue in my memory, never grey

But, I will miss you, Marseille,
and that's okay.

Before the muses all esaped, their voices used to fill my mind with too many things to ever say. Interupting each other endlessly, yelling and screaming and making a scene, each thinking their thoughts so much more important than anything else the others could posibly ever have to say. A sea of crashing caucaphony breaking in waves upon the rocky shores of a mind siezed by trying to decide who to listen to, to decipher what to take from them, if anything at all, each and every day. But the voices now are but whispers uttered from the shadows of a bedroom on the darkest nights. They had been caged, then they broke free, still contained though now released, then they escaped, and now they're free- having slipped through a crack which never got filled back in after picking up the pieces and putting them to together again.

So now the words dont come so easily as they did once, back before. Before the weakness became the very thing for which i no longer have the strength to bear the burden of its consequences, despite the pleasure of it's mistakes. The pain of losing makes it hard to see the light of everything you have to gain. And the heighth to which you rose before the crest informs how long the ride back down will take. The steepest peaks have steeper walls, and you fall much faster as you tumble uninpeded by anything, approaching terminal velocity before stopping dead as reach your fate. When you hit, theres a chance for it to give a little bit before it breaks. Sometimes, like on a trampoline, you bounce back, and walk away; Other times the world goes crashing in, colapsing underneath the very weight of all the things you carried down with you, like so many a ball and chain, revealing depths as yet unfathomable before the breach was ever made. Depths from which to reemerge seems impossible from down below; And just getting up is hard enough;  And ever harder after every fall. Harder still To walk away, much more the climb yet to be made.

It seems I never bounce back anymore... And no matter how long the fall may take, when the rock bottom hits you in the face, your mind shuts down, then hits reset and just sits there... and it waits...as long as it needs to assess the damage and make repairs that can be made to the fragile psyche your skull contained, before it shattered from the blow. As the gears come grinding to a halt, and then shudder back to life a gain, theres no telling what might come unstowed, and bang around until it breaks. Once the rhythms fall back into sync and you get yourself underway, then you can start ot realize what action you need to take. The reset button can be hard to find, and sometimes it doesnt work, or it breaks, Leaving a Jumbled mess of memory scattered everywhere there is space. And sorting through it all is treacherous theres no telling what might show its face.

Now my thoughts are interspersed with emptiness, but when they do come they flood the gates; and there never comes a warning of impending chaos on its way.  Like a Thunderclap before a Summer storm, from out of nowhere comes the crack of a lightning striking far to close for comfort no matter how far it is away. Then just as fast the stormclouds break, unleashing a deluge over the landscape. Then swirling the slipstreams they cluster and condense: And rythyms reveal themselves composed of gravity and weight, but the rhythms that i often find even more often slip away. Rarely are they ever permanent, and they always seems to change, mutating as it gets repeated, reguritated over and over again. inevitably the beauty which I thought I recognised at first, starts to seem uninteresting, like a too familiar word which all of sudden seemed awkward to say after saying it too much, and no sooner does it disinterest me than it slowly begins to fade- and as they do, they leave a broken trail of breadcrumbs eluding to the truth they once relayed, echoing from the chasm black in bits and pieces then descending back from whence they came, never to be heard again as they were when frist composed: Their rhythm and their melody the victims of the very thing they had portrayed; no sense of repeating the same thing. Yet never are the bits forever lost; merely to far away to hear or see, but quietly they linger ever on, a wave endlessly perpetuating into the distiance searching for something off which to richochet. and return, unexpected to the point of origin, whereupon its arrival its replayed.

The time of dad's passing
I've been restrained
All the day long
I've looked at the rain.

There isn't a smouldering
Hint of a spark
I can't see for nothin'
The rain is so dark.

The stormclouds are following
One on another
They tred on the heels
They're so close together.

The date of a death
Is when pain was born
There seem to be many
One endless storm.

The first major hurricane
2020 has seen
Was the health & work crisis
Of COVID-19

Then the stress on good friendships
Because of the news
People fussing & fighting
For differing views.

THEN Minneapolis
Had a white killer cop
And others stood by
As a black man's heart stopped!

Now, these are DEATHS!
We HAVE to RECEIVE!
Deaths of our innocence
We no longer believe
In man's basic goodness
No way it's retrieved
We must accept now
And we have to GRIEVE.

My father survived WWII
Lived 93 years in this mortal stew.
But now he's left... years ago? TWO.

When I was a child
Oh, SO long ago
I used to LOVE thunderstorms...

... what did I know?

R.I.P. Clinton Eugene Jarvis

SoulSurvivor
Cathy Jarvis
(C) 5/30/2020

i set out to make a book of love and understanding
where we walk roads rife with wildflowers and
hike mountains with streams of meltwater

but here i find myself breathing in stormclouds
and i feel my lungs cloy with thick dust

clay and rust will replace the blood in my veins

atrophy of the mind

i want to be free of this, the constant fatigue,
the emotions overflowing as water from
a ***

i didn't mean to go this way when i saw the
fork in the road

The darkness,
seething darkness,
has returned.

I have done more
than simply fall in,
let myself drown.

I have gathered it up,
and worn it as a cloak.
The pain is my protection.

What can you say
to break through
my fog and stormclouds?

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you
Oh, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

HOPE
is like sunshine.
Here one moment, gone the next.
Shadowed by clouds,
Hidden by the moon.
Sometimes comes in small installments.
Through a windowpane
Or the cracks in a door.
It’s always there.
But sometimes we can’t see it.
And what little we see
Is overshadowed by stormclouds
Of doubt. Is there anything
superior to rain crying in the
sunshine? Crying because
HOPE
has finally shown itself.
This is one of the
Only natural exhibits
of true beauty.

we meet at midnight (or maybe one) and you’re wearing the same
hoodie you’ve been wearing for three years. the wind nudges us
apart but somehow still you’re soft and smiling. i don’t have a
scarf. there’s a snowball down my shirt and then there’s
this noise ripped from me like i’m gasping and
laughing at the same time and it’s the
ugliest noise i’ve ever heard. i try
to chase you but you’re faster
and it’s okay because
you and i both
have such
terrible
aim.

we’re both just glad to be alone.

there
are beds
i’ll never lie in
ever again and that
is for the best. i remember
there was a time i’d wait for you
i’d sit and literally gaze out my window,
see kids on bikes and the sun passing by
but never you till i conned the moon into friendship
and she introduced us. i’d start arguments to hear you talk
but sometimes (and only sometimes) i would breathe and think,
i wanna fall asleep standing on this salted sidewalk and never wanna
wake up. sometimes you look away when my lips move like you can’t
hear. but i follow you. i teach you to paint and you teach me to dance.

it’s always the same. we get inside. you
hand me bread. we sit on the couch.
i skin my knees falling to the ground
just to hear you laugh. you shift and a
part of me wants to know the rhyme or
reason why but you roll your eyes when
i tell you poetry doesn’t need to rhyme
and i am a happy hypocrite. the bottle
is warm where your hand's been killing
it. it’s dead when i hand it back.

when i fall asleep your eyes are with me
and when i wake up you’re holding my
wrists. my skin is petrichor and yours is
smoke. suddenly there’s thunder bridging
the distance between the moon and sun,
matchflame and cumulonimbus clouds
and the carpet flips over as i pitch toward
the kitchen table. you’re photokeratitis
and i go blind. i make snow angels.
i need. i need to close my eyes.

you make me tea. i put my head in my hands.
my hair frizzes under lightning. there are no
blankets and no conversation. i pretend
to sleep on the floor and in two long hours
i’ve made friends with the spiders under
your bed. you haven’t met.

--

the alarm whispers. i pick myself off his floor. i steady myself.
i can’t look at him for too long, can't say goodbye. i glance.
his eyes are closed. there’s no way to wake him without
feeling like a wolf, or maybe a sheep. my wrinkled coat
is tangled in the rug. it's dawn. red eyes. if he was up
he would call me a mess. he's not. the sun drapes
over his sheets. i am freezing. my hand shakes
at the doorknob and i think, wrong, this
is the ugliest noise i have ever heard.
the bottle is on its side next to him.
it says nothing. i never opened
a door more slowly. i run
like there’s something
behind me. i lose a
minute when i sit
on the stairs. my
my eyes bleed. i
laugh. i told him
i hate love songs.
it's not like he
follows my
*******
spotify.

it’s always morning here
and always so quiet;
it doesn't let me say goodbye.
he's asleep but i’m alone and the air
is still. there are no stormclouds,
no suns
or snow or crescent moons.

the sky is
blue