HURRICANE POEMS FOR A LARK

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1. Who Has Seen the Wind?

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Always the uninvited guest,
the wind
pushes through the porch
into the house,
and scatters leaves collected
in its wake,
like a shower of crackling
seeds freed
from pods that do not come
from here.
Strange, how
it barrels through rooms
disturbing spiders spinning
webs busily
before the storm ebbs,
safety nets strung
among sepia-tinted pictures
on the wall.
What did it miss along the way?
Windsas interlopers are blind
levelers–the rich
run for supplies as quickly as
the poor do.
In New York, as in Manila,
the howler
brought in the flood, and left
laughing.

2. She Left Uproariously Howling

Her fury might as well have
risen from the sea
Wreck every hearth and heart on her wake:
It should not matter,
these are worms wriggling
To overstay in rotten mounds
of a leftover paradise
Abandoned by leeches of fuel,
stones, fire powder,
Who ripped the sides of
mountains for nickel
And gold to build the ships
that burned villages
From the sky and left like
the wind laughing
After the slaughter of the
hallooing innocents
Yelping hosannas to a rain
of napalm, welcoming
Death and dying as
deliriously as they did some
Distant rain brought by
growls of sudden thunder.

3. Beware the Deluge Reprised

A Deluge comes.
Only this time, we have no Arks
Nor Ararats to salvage all
who hope to find
Another Blue Planet in an
extended Universe.
No one has applied to be a Noah.
They are all,
All retired and tired of saving
a ruthless specie,
The homo viator whose
journey brings nothing
But a discovery that
He has lost the Love He had
For all the meek who shall
inherit the Earth.

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