beauty is crying
bleeding birds
because of the words laughing
desperate diamonds
art shouting
empathic eons
imagination embracing
cloudy children
passion singing
low laughs
tenderness understanding
mad mountains
of an artist
reaching alone and across
death before my birth

without truth
there are only bells
stuffed with dead rain

#245. three day rain

April 27, 2010

the edge
of the storm
is sharp blue
lightening against deep grey

clear air
crying birds
full rushing river
sweeping past the pier pilings

beauty
worth the wait

i went down to the water today, again.
the east river at high tide then to
the hudson estuary with all the wind
and the birds flying and screaming
felt the mud at the bottom of the harbor exposed
and cold stinking of life and our culture
being cleansed impure until we kill ourselves off.

i trust the sea to do what is needful
for the air to transmit all the information
that the trees need to create
that the earth needs to return us to the fire.

i will go down to the water tomorrow, again.

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