Sonny Rainshine Poems

If to dust we must submit,
and with the cold December wind
incorporate our breath,
when lowered last into the pit,
...

So many miles of earth and rock
and we linger here on the surface,
living on the crust, and dying just beneath.
...

Just as you to inhospitable places
are drawn, so am I.

Just as some je ne sais quoi
...

On some days the sky is not cerulean blue,
it is not azure or indigo, nor is it the tint
of someone’s grandmother’s antique ewer.
...

Pale green-swirled cradle,
rock-a-bye in the cool breeze.
Dream of butterflies.
...

A single needle drops from the pine,
but the tree remains.
A storm snaps off a branch,
but the trunk stays.
...

I was born unhappy.
I will live unhappily.
You are the only person
who can release me
...

The space between you and me, the air,
is a conduit for conversations past, all jumbled,
declarations of love and idle curses,
folded into the wind.
...

Not that long ago, she was so sure
that affection and love were entitlements,
promised and secure,
sort of a social security of the heart.
...

She dispenses the lava of her wrath,
molten and churning with chunks of regret,
into everyone she meets,
measuring it into compartments,
...