by Charles Farrell Thielman ~ kokua ~
Storm Raked Manes
Gust spun boldface crosses an intersection
April plants a rainbow, spires to urban canyon
Arch of colors on a gray blue squall arm
Rain drapes a blue veil over bridge struts
Rush hour fires up, splashes debris into gutters
Jazz sax rivulets into my waking thought
dream arrayed within fine blue mist
Lyrics riff, born of the carved and the sprayed
Rusting, locked boxcars thunder rails hot
That loss etched habits carry bills of lading
well known. The brown maned stallions in the hollows
of my ankles canter through downpours