it seems so obvious all the time that clouds are really messages sent from people who know better. they can forecast the future before we arrive, draw our likely map routes with their wisps, calculate the possibilities of our stupidity. remember the pot holes? that cumulus tried to warn us by turning itself into a dragon. you thought it was a dog. up ahead storm clouds make funny faces, telling us it’s okay to go on. the ditch rises to meet the horizon and the front turn signal. i could have told you we’d end up with dahlias in the windshield. the clouds form balloon animals of their younger selves and squeal their air out. exasperation sounds like thunder splitting its head against the oaks.


Palm Reading

Image taken of a graffitied redwood.
Words written at Jewel Box.
Ears On Bat for Lashes
Time Taken five or so minutes.
Brain On going to see Brave in a few hours!!

This entry was published on June 25, 2012 at 11:23 am and is filed under June, Poems, Seattle, Self-Portraits. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: