A Sun Too Hot, A Break Within The Nature Of Rain
When the rains came,
they came with a cough
and a sniffle, a slight thread of silky mucous.
We are tired, they
cried,
heavy with tomes on
distraction, theories on a loss in faith, a lack of empathy.
Their clouds gathered
into a large convention,
clashed over variations
of grey, fire, the weight of water, the pounding of sledge hammers
Nothing changed for
nothing mattered,
and the rain fell onto
hard packed mud, the oceans rose, and the Bramble Cay melomys went extent.
Nightfall By The Water
Between the camel light
of dust and dawn
a growth of forest
within sand and stone,
grand rivers of fish
without eyes, transparent
snails, microscopic
ants, long-legged beetles.
What eats the earth of
this realm and thrives?
The cackle of spotted
hyaena, sand fox, Nubian
bustard, cobras,
chameleons, skinks, secretary birds,
Acacia and Artemisia,
doum palm, oleander, dates,
thyme, fields of bitter
apple, tribes of addax antelopes.
Night comes in with a
brilliance of black, glitter of stars,
a coldness of shade and
wisps of wind, the noise of prey,
the silence of predator,
and near the water, splash
and crocodile--and then
the camel light begins to rise
easily, a soft footprint
in the sky and day begins again.
Waking Next To Wonder
The world splattered ink
all over me--
water, then light; rust
and moon glitter:
somewhere the Witch of
Hollandaise,
Demon of Serpentis, dog
of the chariot--
Beside me, she dreams
she is asleep
her hair stop lighting
red to blue to green,
then the colour of the
Montserrat beach, early,:
three giant stingrays
swimming near the surface
Michael H. Brownstein’s latest volume of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else was recently published by Cholla Needles Press (2018).
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