At the moment
Charles Brown announces
Keats has died that's when
the rain arrives outside my window.
It's a child's whimsical belief
that enters my head, a child's heart
weeping for the dead poet
who believes the rain
is God's sudden tears of grief.
I know it's my own sorrow
that wants to believe
that the world is grieving
with me for the loss.
This world will tolerate
coincidence and nothing more.
We all know that. In the words
of Sergeant Joe Friday:
"Just the facts, sir, just the facts."

08/06/2011

Posted on 08/06/2011
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