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Diorama of Wind

...The wind distorts all familiar signals now, the light from stars like
gremlin tumbleweeds my mother gathered from the road
                                                                    that ran alongside the house
spray painting their wind-snarled heads in golden wet drip
decorating the small front porch with their bottled and suspended drift
when anything the wind sent in was fair game

 and we made everything from nothing in our personal diorama of wind
in this neighborhood of kites and tangled string, tetherball rolling

 side to side on the silver pole in the backyard, a modern weather vane 
keeping everyone awake at night with its harsh lullabye
beating at the door


from the whole (how a thing so readied can explode. Like this)
Thank you to Cut+Paste Society
Poetry Storm 3.0 Wind


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