our time of

in our time of unbending

never again in this city
will sea-waves beat on shingle

parts

                        today we have naming of parts…

            …of the body
        a laid-out map
                or on a
        butcher’s slab

Blood Rain

The wet fingerprints

of an ill wind stain
the weather,

fronts of rain,
the blood-red
dust of deserts.

benthos

rain in the depths of the sea
fallen beyond the reach of light

we are the clouds of it

change