366 Poems: January 31st, 2016

Storm Warning

We are often more powerful than we think…


Like the clouds that turn the cerulean skies grey,

we are nothing but air and angst, fear and overflow

for the ground that does not wish to drown

in the seas the contractors call “necessary expense.”

My ocean is your eyes and my ship is your love for the rain:

how you walk through the storms with a smile on your face

and yet I still don’t know how you stay dry.

How you say, “I’m just some kid without a family,”

and yet still can fight the waters away.


Some days I feel like I’m writing an epic for the ages

when I look at the words pouring from my hand

and realize they’re sending out a warning…

That the ship is strong but the waters are rising,

the trees are falling, the dogs are barking,

the prettiest faces are feeling the most cuts,

and the tallest cities are falling, falling under the water from our sky that sails like feathers and yet is turning the roads to rivers and the subways to sinkholes and the words are breaking through the cracks in the mortar and into the walls of the bomb shelters and

I am

the one

with the

pen. I am

the one

staring up at

the sky watching as

the clouds get ready to wash

it all



The wind,

the wind blows my hair, tugs on my skin,

and yet I am kept warm

by the threads of your jacket,

given to me just before you went walking

into the grey…


And I know that the storm is already here.

“Prelude to a Summer Storm”


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