So.
For some odd and unknown reason..the weather has trickled its way into my work lately. And not in any clear or cohesive way...but in that lofty carrie rudzinski sort of way. Not that i think i write anything like her, but in this way that the reaction to her work is so completely visceral, you never really care whether or not you understand what she's talking about.
To sum up:
I'm writing weird poems.
None are finished.
I don't know what they're about.
Here's one for you to enjoy.
---
i am walking down the highway
into the eye of the storm
searching for a metaphor
in how the lightning flashes
when i realize
the sky don't change colors
the blue they will be in the morning
is the blue they are right now
if only it were light enough to see
and the strobing electric crack of thunder
is trying to show us the sameness of it all
and i wonder why i am afraid
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