Hi again.
It’s actually not raining now, but it did last night. I wasn’t able to get a good drive in per se, but I did take a little walk in a local park. Good enough. Since it’s summer, I think about times when storms sprawl across the sky. An impending storm where you feel the atmosphere warp and morph to their power. I also wonder about some insane necromancy.
Below is a poem I wrote over 4 months ago. Writing poems is rare for me, given my propensity for fiction and just overall imposter syndrome. There is hope, though. It’s being workshopped in a private writing group. For what it’s worth right here and now, I hope you enjoy it.
The Power of Thunderstorms
Thunderstorms are barreling across the area today
lightning crackles its own peculiar shade of blue
the dead have lost count how many thunderstorms
have filled their graves to a point where the cumulative
inches of water have at some point had their bones afloat
in some form of ethereal zero gravity at some point
I do not know what I said is all-mumbo jumbo
and I'm sure the dead do not either
but if you lay with one ear against the earth
you may think hey is that a dead Civil War veteran,
or earthworms angry you’re blocking their hole,
but in reality it’s just my tinnitus flaring up again
my hair starts levitating as if a magician is nearby
the thunder drums and chases me to my car
I turn it on and let sludge metal drone on for a bit
a tombstone in view, I blink when the lightning attacks
my eyes are blurry as I drive away and I swear
there was a skeleton arising from the grave, amped up on electricity,
plasma spewing from every orifice, sparks manifesting on every digit,
ready to seek revenge on the next sorry gravesite layer
that's enough chattering for one day