
Flash after flash above
a steely barrage of pellets—
an opaque torrent of gray rain
cut by the crack of thunder
as if the gods were falling timber
or sawing logs—
or just inebriated
in the mountains
playing nine pins.

Flash after flash above
a steely barrage of pellets—
an opaque torrent of gray rain
cut by the crack of thunder
as if the gods were falling timber
or sawing logs—
or just inebriated
in the mountains
playing nine pins.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2024, Ranch Journal
Tagged Atmospheric River, Dry Creek, lightning, photography, Pineapple Express, poetry, rain, thunder, weather
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.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015, Ranch Journal
Tagged Fillmore, lightening, rain, Shrine Hall, storm, thunder