Wednesday, August 10, 2011


i sit rocking in my chair

it is old and worn,

and does not rock quite as it should

dreams and chores struggle for my limited attention

when suddenly, cutting through all that, a smell rather than a sight

captures my thoughts

it is the smell of horse

rich and rancid

common, everyday for me, yet compelling

powerful enough to transfix me

hold me to that moment



the rain is like a wild, fearsome creature in these parts

we do not like to call it our climate

nor can we call it an aberration

for it is an ever present force

restless, and wild

it gouges out huge chunks from our roofs

and hammers inexplicable holes into the ground

turns salt and sugar into indistinguishable pastes

and makes the house the sole refuge of the ants

the earthworms and termites