Pete Spence
Stormy Morning.
stormy morning! i winter over coffee
outside the wind has begun to rain
i could use a sand dune to soak up my thoughts
i breathe carefully into the clay of an idea
the honey buzzes as i spread it across some bread
i look up as a shadow passes behind my eyes
everything becomes a comedy of terrors
as error passes into habit habit passes into style
filling the emptier parts of a day
filling the emptier parts of an idea
filling a lake with sand
nailing down loose ends
trying to tempt the elusive
o morning of instantaneous inaction
the rain falls like a plague of splattered gnats
falls like a semblance of muttered splats
and some sort of bird flies across the face of a window
Seriously Waiting.
a cloud falls on the heroine tiptoeing
around other fallen clouds! why rain!
just drop in! the mush grows like yeast
to be alone among fallen clouds is heroic
like treading water laying about dripping
at its edges! rain puzzles water it would
really like to seep away into a nice shadow
but the heroine doesn't like shadows
they can downpour somewhere else or
folded up in a valley gathering some dust
maybe they will become artesian shadows
in the meantime a lost weather report
is handed in tattered around the stitching
messing up the view moving seriously
across the open field as it disheveled towards
a determined autumn seriously waiting
Pete Spence was born in 1946. He is a poet, visual poet, editor, and filmmaker, and has worked in various jobs to cover the ongoing deficit.
A collection of visual poetry, 5 X Y, was published last year by Red Fox Press as part of the C'est Mon Dada series.
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