Weather Report

The day’s gray sheet tacked to the green sky
A black sheep remains, floating there
Above Yosemite’s polished dome

The hero must be well-known
Mercury climbs without rope
Through rising nimbus of cloud

As if to perform
A vertical Marathon
Throwing back

To Pheidippides’
Spartan line
From battle

Staked off the east coast of Attica
The rain should fall but doesn’t

 
0
Kudos
 
0
Kudos

Now read this

Sonnet in which Angels Do Not Age, Neither Do Clouds

A folk tale of rook-pecked corpses and rusty bicycles For which the pink elastic strings of the fable’s bikini Has been washed too many times Like laying A flaming palm branch of donkey shit at your door After S– stood you up twice for... Continue →