Metal roof
machine gun fire,
strobe lightening
and rolling thunder:
cracks rip black
with jagged light,
redbud silhouettes
dance with the dark
like the Fillmore,
like the Shrine—
endless bass
rocks the canyon,
canons bark with flame
and the war goes on and on.
Moist breath,
eager heart electrified
not to be contained
within old skin.
On stage:
the Doors
Janis Joplin wild with
Jimi Hendrix crescendos.
Last flashes break with dawn.
Inch-seventeen all in the ground—
she hasn’t lost her touch
with how to make it rain.
