haiku
by David X. Hugo
the rain makes oily
rainbows in the parking lot;
the empire’s facade.
i posit that all of this gas
and carbon nonsense is
the molecules within a falling
raindrop, electrons and
other scientific things popping
and fizzing as supernovas in
a black abyss. that chances are
we will be crushed on an umbrella,
that man will have spent all
of his time sitting in front of computer
screens, watching geniuses blabber,
positing about carbon and raindrops,
and plop,
right on some 9 year old’s hannah
montana umbrella. she’ll be livin’ like
us, ears closed, just like one big
epic irony. for feelings,
i guess.
And the rain came down
Down and Down
Down and Down
And Down.
Down and Down
Down and Down
And Down.
And looking out the window
My countenance falls
Down and Down
Down and Down
And Down.
(catch breath)
Down and Down
Down and Down
And Down.
Until finally I’ve had enough.
To hell with this,
I’m taking a nap.
rains falls, grim and grey
the park is empty–
soaked mud leaks in streams
across sidewalks like
pulsating coffee veins.
but at one hoop
the wet thuds of diminished dribbles
a small boy shoots
his watery reflection in the inverted world
following his every move.
i am the rain cloud above the
ignorance parade.
i block out the sun
and ask “where did you
put your umbrella?”
i did not choose this.
i can be light as any cloud,
when there is no rain for
me to fall. i can let the sun
through when the wind pushes
me out of the way, or when
i am not feeling gray.
why should i feel bad?
i am like anything else.
without emotions getting
in the way.
we look outside
because
rain is suddenly falling
at night
and in the windows of apartments
across the parking lot
silhouettes appear–
skeptical of the sound –
draw back curtains–
and suddenly
we are collectively admiring
this minor miracle
for the next five minutes.
as the clouds blot out the sky
darkness spreads through the drapes
and into my living room,
casting me in shadow
and the wish that
the sun would stop shining
and darkness would expand,
until there is no difference,
between night and day,
between day and night,
and this moment would last.
tantalizing clouds
hold out hope of rain;
perhaps there will be fireworks.
Whistling aurora encases
Ears in a shuddering
Presence of imminence
Sound of sand spilling
From precipitous heights
Hissing as it treads closer
Surrounding every angle
Reaching coarse cement
Smashing liquid bullets
Leaping chaotic harmony
Shifting spectacle of pixels
Translucent humming static
Vibrating peacefully overhead
Raindrops pricking skin
Percussion against city rooftops
Soaking the arid earth
these days
we live in a continuum of rain
beneath infinite clouds
our heads bowed
we keep our eyes clear
to see what–
the ground?
falling suddenly
rain burst from sky
as if the clouds everywhere
shattered and God stood on the
other side of that firmament, hammer in hand
labeled
“use in case of emergency.”
spring has come
with cold and rain
and almost but not quite sleet
and wind and clouds
and gloom and doom
and all the things I wish
would last all year.
your torrential downpour -
wash us clean from our pride
to remind us
of things we cannot control
your voice alone is the thunder
your grace alone is the rain
no matter the price of gas
you will not cease to send your rain
people dying in earthquakes
those who will drown today in oceans
they’re as real as this house
this street, this page, these words
and my wife.
you created life
we try so hard to harness
you alone create.
how small i am and how big you are
to strike down,
create
destroy
remembering that you are not safe
but you are good
your rain
so thick i cannot see
you remind us who you are
and who are
we.
an overcast sky
and light rain
send me back inside
because how
else can i feel this
justifiably lethargic.
