Water Droplets

Today's themes are water droplets and rain.

The first picture is titled "Rain On Screen Window". The second picture is "Rainbow Seed". The third picture is "Vague Amnesia". And the last picture is "Mental Longitudes".






In Its Rain
-------------

The puddle of rain revealed its opacity,
Its transparence made fantastic,
To the air and Earth and to the minds
Of idiots obsessed with their own genius.
And this vacuum in which the Earth hides,
It is in turn complete and insignificant,
Beautiful and obscene.
Yet these invisible illusions, this
Invisible light, all of it is contained totally
In the darkness we all are in love with,
In the emptiness which explains itself.
And all the universe is soaked in its rain,
In its magical drops of water, its prisms
Within prisms; But, alas,
The rainbow forming is shaded incorrectly,
Is shaded with
Colors and hues, none of which
Are anything but absolutely strange.

============

As Nothing Other Than Rain
-----------------------------

The crystalline rain once inspired me.

But since enlightenment is now found
Only inside dimmest darkness,
I have not yet desired again
To write of the gods of love
Nor those of hatred, nor write of ourselves
Desiring pleasures more fantastic
Than white-noise
And absence
And numbers too abstract
To achieve anything other than
The most benign substance of my madness.

I have not yet desired again
To fall from this sky
As nothing other than rain,
Than rain which is describable
Solely as being transparent.
(For this which is above us shatters...
Into shards of watery glass.)

................

This Transfixed Water
----------------------------

This transfixed water of such a sponge
Drips throughout its melodious mesh;
For these eternal tears have returned
To our one fragile emptiness, returned
To an elaborate peace previously composed
From the syllables of our madness,
From climatic voices which invoke
The droplets plain and resurrected,
Which invoke the prism that alludes
To the vanishing rain, to simplistic mud,
To sorrowful liquid quite arid, quite
Aroused, quite turbulent and unsightly.


++++++++++++++

In This Subjective Water
----------------------------

Intuitively the surface surrenders its liquid,
Leaving our arid dreams to exist as such a clamor.
In this subjective water we may have seen
The fingerprints of swallowed air, have seen
The gibbous moon in retrograde. And
This repetition of unjust prisms, it too
Is its space, is its suction, is this, the
Artificial conjugation imprisoned but cleaved.
As I dare to shun the circles in the sky,
I also conjecture that meaninglessness
Is the epitome of our love, conjecture that
This solidity beneath me is the aesthetic dawn,
Is the strangely converging riddles of distortion,
Of a deserted lens somehow distantly exhumed.


============

This Cloud Of The Thorn
--------------------------

Coinciding with this cloud of the thorn, withered
Is such rain, is such beauty in which I succumb.
Withered are those naive thoughts of rancid sky.
And I relinquish my fist; and it erases the air;
It captures the single droplet. For where has this
Transparent speck become itself? Where, this water
Of potential grandiosity? Yet it fails. It fails
To wash into our dreams, into misshapen rivers soiled
And jagged. Oh, circumstances remain, then coincide,
Coincide with rain, with flesh, with stabbing shards.
For we too fall. We too are made from blood.
We too are but mist ascending, then descending,
Then arriving at our own curiosity, asking, surely,
Have we finally rested upon our desires, only to darken
Or be forgotten? Ah, and then we recall, however,
We are never to love, are never to evoke
Any such clouds.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leroy