PERCUSSION OF THE WIND

the hollow wooden tap tap thunk

of the plums falling
onto next doors
carp pond rooflet

here on the edge of storm floris

is the same sound
as children
dead & knocking 

an asking paradiddle

on heavens
unsure door

KEEL OF CRUMBS

& rain came
perpendicular & small
& i listened to the rain
& i thought a thought
& the thought thunk me

in
a
sunday mornings
keel of crumbs

soul itching
like a microdose tease

feet up

chow down

& wonder