The Right Column
Sunspot Blue
had a message
of heartache.

The rain came then
and thunder.

Messages left
in a box that
nobody ever
read.

They got wet
on account of
the rain.

I knew to lock
up and go
home.
But no one 
was at my house
and I didn't
have a key.

It was still
raining
which I could
see as distant
sky sights
like a renaisance
painting.

There was a rainbow
then and I 
forgot about
going in side
and all about
the house
as if it never
were.

It is only a
partial
heartache
this dream
your face
so real in
vision
of eternities
of wilting
clover,
you ever young,
the clover
ever blooming.

I know a place
along a river
on the Mohawk trail.
If you go there
you are forever young.


July 13, 2009
-BP