Dear Mr. Weatherman

02/19/2014 § Leave a comment

We’re getting poorer

hungrier

and fatter all of the time.

I think Heaven is a mouth that does not speak

and this city has no ears, no eyes.

Dear Mr. Weatherman, please;

Tell us what the sky holds

and for whom the rain falls—

Falling forth,

falling

forth,

we hear its music

and do not understand.

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