popcornucopia

[leftover_curry]

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They say that misery runs on the streets
pocketing a crooked smile that softens
the starry-eyed watchmen.

They tell me that that lightning and thunder
are a symptomatic God.

Then, there is that lady by the well holding a water pail with no bottom.
The undeveloped voices at the bottom call her the last rain.

The fallcharmers spend their six days questioning Sunday
and how the corn pews soak faithfully in the buttery light.

Help.
Help.
Help goes the rabbitmoon

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