dogtrax

Four/Four

A set of drums Fast pedal clock click His hands hitting cymbals An intricate rhythm stick

In near perfect balance An intricate rhythm stick In four-four time The drummer never quits

Each note becomes another Drive it home, forward His hands hitting cymbals The beat of feet

The guitar is gone The bass drops out The singer now sits The drummer never quits

a variation on a 4x4 poem

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Voices spill out beneath the door, sound as shafts of light — in escape, shadows wait for more,

for us to linger a little longer, our ears pressed against the wood — if only we could drop beneath the eaves,

maybe then we'd believe

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Dry mouth soil savors these rains, nearly forgotten by brittle Earth —

we were warned, remember, about the flames, the first spark ignites the dark as the monsters came — subsumed by an act of madness, the kind only nature brings

Yet here we were, singing the praise songs again, the clouds dropping gifts up us

the rain the rain the rain

This street is frozen with the sleet – the thin veneer of an angry child

Rhythm, underfoot, a loud (de)composition of fallen, dried leaves

Cacophony, like a symphony of shouts; Ravens on tree tops

Steeped, under water, where the slow release of tea signals some relief

Folded edges crease out shadows of memory, beyond even the repair of Scotch, the tape recording the photographs

She's all cuddled up where the bed meets the heater; a cold dog, at rest

for Algot

Fingers, fiddling with brass buttons, breaking thread on the coat instead

Crystalline ice paints the car window like shattered thought; frozen moment

Music plays quiet chord - sharp sounds

for #ds106 — a sestetle