justwrite 30 september

there's a kind of quiet
riding out the storm surge
urging rainbows from creek beds
wandering instead into wet grass
this too will be classified
this rain is not as wet as last week's
wait until the lady on the corner
has her say/ from her porch
torching up the hotline
feeling fine except for the troubles
bubbling up unshaved stubble
irritating/ saving no nations
irrigation so out of touch
a crutch for lazy lettering
water flying right by
touching no dry spells
yelling out tomorrow's menu
blue Ls and red Hs spelling nothing
try the hail it's really something
plumping the tires for another go
pillow talk with rocks in my mouth
this i promise you
there will be no compromise
there will be no wrong
only the thunder can stay
gold and aching for release
depth charts disheartened by age
there are no chances from this angle
down from the top of the/ chop of the tree
all the little pork
all the sweetened toes
waiting for the sky to slow
the moon flooded last night/
maybe again
maybe it will pour out
south america
oranges and greens
mountains of culture, vultures
tongues thick with poetry
a sky that answers