Understorm - Poem by Richard George
A giant, I could almost
touch this dye-through-
ribboning in the cauldron-smur.
Scrag-ends of cloud wave from the mountain.
Most of this is us waiting
for fat drops two parts
hydrogen to plop like minnows
seconds before squall
picks up, and all along a bronze-electric horizon
drown Himalayas of water
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