storm

Mad Rush

When all seems hopeless and the wind howls its lonely song and the ocean, once a friend, burns white each …

Our burdens crackle off our backs like claps of thunder over wheat silver to the moon, patterns of stem floundering …

Trouble followed me effortlessly across the desert three thousand miles, a dirt shag rug lives at my feet, black armies scurry in …

Go gently forward, these doors move for you; don’t rush. Your presence in that air-lock; that two-and-a-half feet of empty …