my storm

do you see the bright light on the lampost perched on the

salty bluff

the sound snaking through the dense dark bark of the evergreen-oak forest?

the twilight in the gloom of the sparkling blackness deep in the earth?

I can see these things – feel these things – I am their sensuousness

And I am this renewal. I am this death

The thunder rolls over the flats of the midwest rousing and holding its raptured audience

– I am also this holiness and unanswered lust listing

the thunder rolls across these plains – ethereal tendons striate and tense cracking and wrestling with nebulous vapor

the storm strikes the earth and spreads herself into the soil like ouranus

we feel the security between her press and earth’s resounding resilience

i am this small space this weakness and submission to an unanswered question

i am this terror and this is my storm