"there's a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot." -steven wright

Thursday, April 13, 2006

we both dove (david)

this is a poem i wrote last summer after an outrageously brief and violent thunderstorm.

we both dove

the sky turns the color
of a bruise
as "new slang" by the shins plays
underneath the wind coming in
through a cracked window

cottonwood seeds tumult
on wind currents below these windows
and the trees are bowed
and tired

the rain starts across the valley
over emerald mountain
in three minutes it is here
falling straight down
the wind is a memory
and the cottonwood puffs
have been pummeled into the wet
shiny grass

the water drips
from the curved metal roof
onto the concrete below
and becomes
a splattered chorus
a litany of watery invocations

i am finning in the river
i am safe in my slime
the water is my air
and i am far below
the malevolence above

i am in the current
then out of the current
and each drop hitting the surface
above me
for a moment is a connection
to that other earth
the one i dream of before the cars
and the concrete

a ragtag group of blackbirds makes its way
above and across town
i see them

i see them


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