( via / me )

October.

"Terzanelle in Thunderweather

This is the moment when shadows gather
under the elms, the cornices and eaves.
This is the center of thunderweather.

The birds are quiet among these white leaves
where wind stutters, starts, then moves steadily
under the elms, the cornices, and eaves--

these are our voices speaking guardedly
about the sky, of the sheets of lightning
where wind stutters, starts, then moves steadily

into our lungs, across our lips, tightening
our throats. Our eyes are speaking in the dark
about the sky, of the sheets of lightening

that illuminate moments. In the stark
shades we inhibit, there are no words for
our throats. Our eyes are speaking in the dark

of things we cannot say, cannot ignore.
This is the moment when shadows gather,
shades we inhibit. There are no words, for
this is the center of thunderweather."

--Lewis Turco

"DEW. And I lay with you..."

"a terzanelle for Turco"

a form's a little island that i make
against the rending tides of Time
& botfly buzzings' mock

an order, childish half, & half quite stern
rite to tame the raging Id
against the rending tides of Time

for laziness an aid
& filling up a pallid squirrelly page
rite to tame the tides of Time

though sometimes flubbed a smidge
i still churn out these gawky handmade hymns
& filling up a pallid squirrelly page

the setting sun of Lazarus limns
it's kind of a futile thing
i still churn out these gawky handmade hymns

since someone's got to sing
a form's a little island that i make
it's kind of a futile thing
& botfly buzzing's mock

True Thomas.