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I stayed inside all morning |
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watching waves of rain pass over |
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cold and dry by the window |
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I didn't turn a light on. |
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The fireplace dead since last night |
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emptiness inside, cold morning |
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low grey sky immense living belly |
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of a silver fur thing. |
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In waves of weather the house lies |
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piled up wood with me inside |
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I'm piled up dust, alive, dreaming |
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or walking whirlpool of water |
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awake and indifferent |
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looking at cars go by and then get forgotten |
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only a sound of a waterfall breathing out |
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in one long exhale |
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rings in my ears for a moment |
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then another wave of rain blows over |
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greying out the light |
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the lawn through window seems undiscovered. |
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A separate way of seeing. |
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A separate way of breathing it in. |
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A lost world separate from the usual |
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barely meaningful waking and dreaming. |
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Lost in an unfolding |
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thinking about what to do with a day |
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sitting while the light dies |
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until finally it's over. |
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In blue dusk I finally step outside |
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breathing in the cloud that has settled |
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noticing a black looming house shape |
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and at last my eyes crack open. |
