The sky carries a cattle prod
that cracks like a ripped electric cable.
on a wet highway.
White light veins stretch across
the dark bosom of heaven.
Lightning and thunder
makes me think the world’s ducks
are Quack Quack Quacking
The world's hands are clap clap clapping overhead
The rain is a seventeen year cicada plague
gone kamikaze on my nylon A-frame.
A Ballina hurricane spins in my racing brain.
And I beg the sky's bucket dumpers to stop!
Pommelling my weak shelter.
And charcoal clouds stroll on.
Mighty fists sucked back packed into
revealing the moon
and my sanity.
I unzip my tent poke my head to the sky.
And half the sky is stars.
Half the sky is stars.