ISSUE: Autumn 1990
October 1989
Long distance
as if who cares how many miles
but the crackling, the hissing
the not there
it’s the rain
every time it rains
and who are we, extraterrestrial
as if the clouds
the always white
as if the earth, most watery
could not speak
being so blue
white whispers from far away
the sun flares
sunflowers ripe now
brown, petal-less as the birds settle
cry
and rise like voices
nearby, close to the ear.
