Friday, May 9, 2014


Unruly wind, spin-kiss this blue soul wing of mine and waft
me above coulees of cataracts, heedless
of my malaise;
catapult my wary skin skyward, heave this heart
into the hail's fussilade
where I might tumble into
perilous light.

1 comment:

  1. In all my reading, I've never come across "coulee" and "cataract" in the same line except when someone described the Frenchman Coulee Rib. I love those words working together, and I know I have them in my notes somewhere. When I find them, I'll trash them, because I won't be able to get this poem out of my head and I'll probably plagiarize your work.