Winter Phase: Snow to Rain

Snow to Rain

An afternoon rain
Falls on the dead leaves
And the melting snow
Of the pinto countryside
Outside my window
Checking my email
I ought to talk to Adele
I haven’t been to DC in so long
And there’s so much to talk about
There’s so much to talk about

Been closing some books
And trying to find their dust jackets
My room is such a wreck
Getting back to the same old
Another semester ended
But tell me, what did I learn?
Of am I ahead of my turn?
Yearning for a watched pot to boil
Cause I’ve got nothing to talk about
I can’t think of anything

And there’s no work today
All the sidewalks are uncovered
Just a curled lip to hammer straight on my aluminum shovel
Hard to find good tools
Easy to find something bad in everything…
When you’ve too much time to kill
You get a taste for blood and discouraging

The feeling passes less like a swooping bat
More like a boomerang
Though both into the fog-thick dusk
That anchors my harangue
And I am writing my sequel
As they count down the year
My endearing skull graffiti
Reaching for something to talk about
Before something interrupts

And I’m either too busy
Or I’m lingering smothered
In an unmade dirty bed with the empty ghost of a lover
Hard to clean this room
Easy to fill it up with plenty of nothing…
When you’ve too much time to kill
You get a taste for blood and burying



An afternoon rain
Comes to a weighty end
As grey tints the window
But may the sun shine tomorrow
Like slow notes from a piccolo
So that I can write this letter
With an outlook that’s better
Than presently hangs on me
I want so badly to talk about
Everything that spring can bring