haiku 14 Feb 2019

A forlorn rain mists
The acrid plain around us
As darkness descends

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 28 Jan 2018

Softly falling rain
A landscape cold, hushed, and still
Warmth returns too soon

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 05 Nov 2017

Raingdrops whisper yet
All night they fell, all morning
Soaking the parched land

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

on visting wakiya

Loudly they came, and quickly receeded, the thunderbirds that visited today. Oh the tears that streamed down these mortal cheeks as the sky-brothers danced overhead, eyes flashing and wings flapping with thunderously clacking claps; shiver I did as their twisting lightning snakes wove into and out of the snake-roots that worm and twine from the break-point at my middle back; rejoice I did as the cooling rains poured from the skies and penetrated into our makeshift hogan, a rift in the ceiling letting in the blessed healing waters. Thank you, wakiya, mighty and terrible beasts, for blessing our smudging, and for honoring our ceremony with your awesome presence. Aho.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

rain goes away

Suffering greatly at the hands of a group of children that would simply not stop chanting, “Rain, rain, go away – come again another day,” a cluster of cumulonimbus clouds that was just about to drop some precious moisture on the region's parched fields up and left. “At some point, even I can't stomach the constant and continuous demands for us to leave,” said Sir Dumps-A-Lot, a budding strato-cumulonimbus who was on the verge of tears. “We're only here to make sure everything stays nice and moist, but those damn kids just kept singing, and singing, and singing, and singing.”

The clouds, which were scheduled to stick around all weekend and maybe cause a stream or two to flood, vanished quickly, leaving no buffer between the thirsty soil and two whole days' worth of hot, direct sunshine. When asked where they might be headed next, a big-bellied cloud with a dark and swollen center said, “The wakinyan – the thunder beings that make the flash and the boom – they told us to avoid this area for a while, since they too had had curses and hatred flung at them for knocking out a few transformer boxes and setting a patch of forest on fire. I'm not calling the shots around here, but Senior Soak-Em-Good and Miss Daisy-Drizzle-Bottoms thought it would be fun to go rain over the ocean for a while, just to show the humans that we are not to be trifled with.” Rumor has it that the clouds and their ilk have been avoiding the central and western portions of the North American continent because of a series of nasty news reports blaming them – and not the propensity of humans to cover the Earth in layer upon layer of impenetrable asphalt and to move around in gasoline-burning, self-propelled steel chariots – for the area's lack of rainfall.

As a parting insult, the wakinyan spent ninety minutes lighting up the heavens with what is commonly known as heat lightning, more than likely to strike fear in the hearts of any persons sitting in darkened houses trying to keep the fridge doors closed. When last seen, the cluster of clouds was loitering over a major national airport, flooding pipes and causing delays, as usual.

場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit

rain, devil's rain

Harvest Hope & Healing House (HH&HH) megachurch founder and head pastor Langdon Tinngle-Brace declared this morning from his perch high atop a glass-walled pulpit inlaid with gold and ivory that the faithful should avoid rain if at all possible, it being, “The work of the devil himself.” At the conclusion of his forty-minute sermon on the subject (during which two parishoners gave birth and one septuagenarian died), the Right Honorable Mister Tinngle-Brace, who answers only to his full title, said, “God's tears? Rain is not god's tears, nor is it Jesus' tears, nor is it the tears of those cute little baby angel cherubs that weep when they look down upon us and our sinful ways. No. No! You fine people out there staring up at me like good Christians, No! you avoid that rain; you run at the slightest sprinkle; you cover your head and cower in fear of the first sign of a debilitating and dastardly downpour. The devil is in them clouds, he makes the rain fall. It is the devil's very piddle that lies in puddles on our fine roads and that soaks and slithers its way into our bright and tender hearts.” Mr. Tinngle-Brace, being far too corpulent to walk and, besides, having worked himself into quite a lather, was hoisted from the pulpit by means of his personal Gilded Forklift of Heavenly Ascendancy.

Ushers were standing by as the service ended to hand out brochures for – and to funnel churchgoers into – an on-site information seminar about HH&HH's newest RV-park and retirement community in Roswell, New Mexico, where, according to the high-gloss, parchment-like pamphlets, the rains never fall.

場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit