In Passing
The rain grants no respite;
encloses, excludes, surrounds;
gives time mass & tactility;
turns the hill of till we inhabit into a goldonder
adrift in memory
The rain has come full force,
at full throttle,
to deliver me from evil,
to moderate my fear,
to master my hubris,
to bring me into the vicinity
of Johann Sebastian Bach's organ;
7.9 on the Richter scale
The rain washes its bourdon
over my face;
breathes my looks;
my skin stretching in awe, listening
The rain stands tall out in the garden
in a rampant conversation with Rumi
by the gazebo,
with its space station cupola looks,
ambitions high,
ruthlessness flooding the levees
of the mind
The roads drift sideways in the night,
painted black,
order refurbished
as the rain fossilizes the future,
makes it readable
in polished marble steps
Showers come in bursts,
in sweeps of piassava brooms,
thoughts following suit,
remorse becoming brute
The Silver Cat appears out of dawn
with dry fur & shining eyes,
in spite of it all
The night has hiding places
for the few; Silver being one,
now taking command
of a good part of my sentiments,
while the rain continues its spouting-down,
having its way, forcing its way,
speaking in tongues,
whispering in hoarse pipings,
drowning the storm drains
Michel Chion-style
Rain sports a persuasive lingo,
coming on like a war machine
over the hills, through the woods,
across the fields
Our houses are bunkers;
our thoughts immediate dry spells;
our horses storm through the pastures
with shiny skin & wild eyes
The downspouts stand erect
like scared bitterns;
electric fences short-circuit,
the month of August cuts it short,
gathers up its bits & pieces
and moves on into fall in haste,
leaving late summer undone,
with zippers unzipped
and blouses torn
And I got to snap up
the little moans
that Silver lets out in his sleep,
dreaming beside me –
for this kind of closeness is rare
and short-lived,
and life in passing
is just a rustle
on the surface of time
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Written on 2026-08-18 at 11:41
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