that monday, a storm blew off the coast–
whose thumping anvil-heads glimmered in an orange night,
rain curtained the horizon
the sea raised its hands into chaos: an err of estimation, a miscalculated gravity--
i said, "oh there goes a storm again, off east of us," and it rumbled over the lake
--with a wobbled spin to so varied orbiting moons,
now set in spiral outside distant stars,
curled around each other among the sharp tongues of one november storm,
and again. and again.
a pile, rough and withering next. so strange. thump
thump
