street curb gutters fill with sheened reflection
waving fresh news of a morning storm like paperboys
ditch water taught with tension and smoothed surfaces
impresses on itself a cross hatch diamond face
liquid ribbons cross hatched to run cuts of straight crinkle
tugging surface creases into line by curb and concrete underlay
storm gates are the winning receiver of merged raindrops
sprinting to finish downhill 5Ks to the greater liquid whole
like panting puppies eager to be first to the tossed ball
water comes to a corner turn, slows to stop by the choice
of which way to go? at corners things have time to settle -
tea colored leaves, sticks, soil and soaked grass clippings
if underlay softens, you break surface tensions
water puts on a new face of pure calm, spreads itself
too wide to step over easy so we return to our home
put the puppy away, adorn commercial armor, cease to play
now go earn pay for the taxes eating
your check boxed soul's labored endeavors
please don't let that be all what happened
if sight can linger, hang this aback in your mind
throughout the live long slug dog day
the morning breezes on your cheek,
what you breathed on the way home
a lover's kiss was blown at home's door
en route to your fray for impersonal profit
what compares to that cool and calm?
composure - the perfect perfume
you need some to soothe a jangled soul,
when it is crank yanked counterclockwise
by desk phones that shake it up baby,
ring and shout while you work it on out
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Luminous prose, beautiful imagery. Especially loved these lines:
"now go earn pay for the taxes eating
your check boxed soul's labored endeavors
please don't let that be all what happened
if sight can linger, hang this aback in your mind
throughout the live long slug dog day"
and
"what compares to that cool and calm?
composure - the perfect perfume
you need some to soothe a jangled soul,
when it is crank yanked counterclockwise
by desk phones that shake it up baby,
ring and shout while you work it on out"
..............................................
I, too, keep images of water in my mind to soothe a jangled soul. They are snapshots of Caribbean blue water, neon fishes, and fantastically shaped corals, taken on the mental film roll on long ago diving trips.
Your poem reminds me of an Eames film called Blacktop, showing the washing of an elementary school playground. It shows the suds flowing and the paths the rivulets of water take. I think both water and fire are hypnotic.
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