I woke up to the sound of incessant dripping

from a clogged gutter outside my window

the pattering was a constant voice

a broken heartbeat from

a heart that manufactures internal tears

trying to drip out

wash away sadness

rains hadn’t stopped for days

ptat pdit ptad pdap dpit dipat ptdat tipadt

I don’t need weather to govern mood

a type of sadness

vulnerable to the cescendo

of the rain’s own metronome

carved by the hand of gray skies

each falling drop lands on a horse’s hide

cooling a toughness that bites nervously

at those same globes of circular rainwater

that rattle the awning

draining the roof’s edge

I hear each drop like a crisis

that flows blood into partial dreams

the open wound of an aborted dream

sounds that invade the ear pressed on a pillow

sounds that forget there is no mercy

from a sky that never ends

it all becomes a gift

even acid rain

or when frogs drop out of the air onto earth

like the pieces of space that fall from the sky

or when a celestial rock blockades the sun

we celebrate these strange shadows

sent from the sky to confuse dogs

and those street lined arc-lamps

that glow bright with their task

assigned by hidden people flipping computer levers

all talk about rain that doesn’t end on time

fills legends and myths and bibles

with drowned out plans

no one thought were hurting anyone

but this dripping is ending my dreams

that sleep hopes to finish during those real

and personal times I get to see what is

before the world drops the curtain to soon

I look out of the window

a cat sits on a table

an old bucket collects precious rain

water my grandmother uses to wash her hair

the soft gentle rainwater holding

the hair’s soft curls aloft

within the velvet grasp

and under the critical gaze

of what remains forever pure and beautiful

as the incessant dripping

dipt pdat dpap pitad padit pitap

lets the endless sky tell its truth