One from the Wallace Variations which can be found numerously in this category.

Weather of bulls

The sun recovers everything again,
just like you always say the sun is doing.
It is as if there never was a storm last night
thumping its fist of rain against the cinema;
that swept yesterday’s news into the sewer drain
whilst pushing grunt aplomb into the window frames.

The wind flipped through the pages of
your complete poems, to read the lines about itself.
It relishes panache, with which you magnify
its motion through the hair of lacustrine women
& loves to read how bulls that drag the sun
pull without pause & ask nor offer praise.

i know my rationale for doing that
& thinking this, or thinking that & doing this
: it is to try & know with outside, inside out;
to retrieve the irretrievable of the nude
in the shell, ferrying those sinking, repeatedly;
who rush astride themselves like legless bulls of dawn.

i’d have those bulls of dawn
never return, to know the shape of night.

Posted by:DPM

DPM is an idea-logue (sic) and object-oriented speculative realist, attempting to be response-able in an irresponse-able society.

6 thoughts on “Weather of bulls

  1. “Lacustrine” – one of those words the anarcho-syndicalist peasants SHOULD have levelled at King Arthur, when he claimed his right to rule from the bestowal of Excalibur. Top notch poetry.

    1. It’s a mighty word. One of those i had to find a use for, much like scrobiculate, or avoirdupois.
      My lady is lake-like but not of the lake, like the “moistened bint” who delivered Excalibur.

  2. These days, it’s good to be reminded that not every blowhard (like our White House squatter) is a menace to be disparaged–that one’s motives, in fact, matter, that excellence is a thing hard-won, and that even the bull wind’s breath is wasted on the impure of heart…
    This one sings! The blustery hexameter throughout is wonderful!

    1. Cheers Stephanie.
      The wind has no favoritism. i think that is what i quite like about weather & why it is so much a part of my poems, it inflicts a mood on us & yet its actions are without any effort to alter mood & that our mood is often the opposite of what, if the weather did intend anything, it would be for bringing life. An example, the English continually moaning about the rain, which makes the country as green as it is. i love the wind, its drama, yet so many hate it, because it messes their hair.
      i am an advocate of the hexameter, i use it often, usually, as here, in tandem with pentameter, for no other reason really than sometimes a line just needs that extra beat. or not.

  3. Definitely! Those extra beats were compellingly authoritative.
    My son is a weather aficionado. He wants to be a tornado chaser… He loves the rain, too! Used to stand outside in it and be soaked to the bone, shivering and smiling.

    1. That is an ambitious son you have.
      I used to drag people out jnto the rain & tell them it’s the only way to get it, by choosing to feel it. The Koreans think I’m nuts sometimes, going out walking in all weather.

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