Janet Frame - Storms Will Tell

[eyjane.livejournal.com]

Storms will tell; they can be trusted.
On the sand the wind and high tide write
bulletins of loss, imperfect shells,
by smooth memorial of high-country trees,
sea-weed, ripped bird, fine razor, ramshorn, cockleshell.

Give us the news say the tall ascetics reading
ten miles of beach over and over; between empty shells, look,
burning from the salt press, stories
of flood: How I abandoned house and home.
Razor: How I slit the throat of sunlight.
Ramshorn: How I butted and danced at the ewe sunlight.
Cockle: How my life sailed away on a black tide.
 

(no subject)

[two-grey-rooms.livejournal.com]

Apologies in advance if I offend anyone with an abidingly visceral hatred of Bukowski.

"we ain't got no money, honey, but we got rain"
by Charles Bukowski

call it the greenhouse effect or whatever
but it just doesn't rain like it
used to.

I particularly remember the rains of the
depression era.
there wasn't any money but there was
plenty of rain.

it wouldn't rain for just a night or
a day,
it would RAIN for 7 days and 7
nights
and in Los Angeles the storm drains
weren't built to carry off that much
water
and the rain came down THICK and
MEAN and
STEADY
and you HEARD it banging against
the roofs and into the ground
waterfalls of it came down
from the roofs
and often there was HAIL
big ROCKS OF ICE
bombing
exploding
smashing into things
and the rain
just wouldn't
STOP
and all the roofs leaked--
( drip drip drip )