rain – other animals

a strange rhythm wakes me from a sleep I didn’t know I had taken from the closeout bin of a dingy store while the rain ruins plans we didn’t want to keep

sound of rain
seeds
the wind
in
my throat
closes at dusk

Recovered Notes on the New Planet

the sky moves so fast a fragrance like marshmallow

what I thought a purple crystal dissolved in morning dew

evidence of the old civilization if the light is just right on the microscope slide

meters into the crevasse wrongly assumed it was scree

fields like maple syrup over a fresh argument

a language I’ve yet to master sneaks into my notes

returning to a previous marker an acrid smell sunken ground

stuck inside the tent autocorrecting hail

rivers like a laughing bandage to forget the insults of rock

the way forward often loops around in sharpened midday rain

what I wrote on a rock ran away

this mountain like melted gnomes who to name it after

a quiet spot by the river eaten by these mineral teeth

the silicavore’s thought projections jostle the rover’s gyro

a fine web like cotton candy spreads toward the sea by evening

I think there are dogs in the clouds

a dry brown leaf and voices in the wind almost enough like home

late bare tree rain again counting the dog’s nipples

after the poem of rain the prose of mushrooms

and woke to the hiss of rain on the unfinished tomb

rain runs through the hills a harpsichord

winter rain the smoothness of a kidney bean

more cold rain my nails still too long

fine rain—
a white spider climbs
the window sill