Tag: rain

The Gray, Brutal Desperation

the price of wet socks
by Keith Landrum

when mother nature is depressed
she cries for a week
but some say it’s god
taking a piss
on all of his sinners

and really
either explanation
seems reasonable

because there is
a gray area
void
of color
or warmth
a place without
smiles

and that’s where I’ve been
standing
on the front porch
under leaking gutters
watching the gray
float from the end
of a desperate cigarette

as the weatherman
defends his honor
with science
declaring
all of this rain
all of this gray
all of my blues
nothing
but a simple
brutal wind
designed
to
burn
the
hearts
of
man

—–

Keith Landrum paints, works, draws, writes, and drinks in Chattanooga, TN. His work can be found in various print and online small press publications.

The Stumbling Rhythm of Storms

Lake Storm
by Spencer Connell

The wind is strong enough
to parasail with this tent.
But instead, I sit and exhale
as if smoking, and watch the tarp
rise and fall at rhythm with my stomach.

Twice I have refolded my jacket
pillow, following the creases as if they were
plot lines in a novel, while the plants blow
from left to right. The wind is
strong enough to pull the stakes from the earth
and toss them across the lake, rising
and falling like a feather never touching
the ground.

It was a quick thing, the storm
coming over the sawtooth tree-
line, then across the lake and turning
its top to white in a chalk line
advancing to me.

An ant crawls
through the tent holding a crumb
of my bread and brie so large
he stumbles multiple times,
as if drunk. The wind dies
and I go back to blowing the tarp

and watch as the rain that has settled
finds a path back to the ground and to me.