rain is coming


sunrise, power lines

this is a picture for the cover of a book:

maybe about a small town

slow paced

character driven

with prose that is simply


but it doesn’t really have to be about anything in particular,

it just has to speak

in a way that makes you think it alive–

breathing, yet


I don’t have the book:

only the picture.


“the gloom behind the wrath of devil’s snare and bad breath”

this is what my husband tells me is poetry:

I suppose it is a bit shocking

and doesn’t make sense–

and isn’t that what poetry is?


it doesn’t seem to match the picture.