top of page
  • Gary Hunter

Can't Hear the Patter of Rain - Jan. 26, 2023

for the pop of the

Monday morning fire

we both huddle around

one sick and sofa bound

the other feeding flames

that twist orange

in sideways smiles

it feels primitive

staring into the fire

hanging on every word

understanding none

while somewhere inside

I lay lazy in the womb

of today

no rush to be born

1 view

Recent Posts

See All

yuuuuuuck but when the first ray of sun breaks through everything glistens the first bird song so cheerful and fresh the earth’s fragrance a tea of all it sweetest parts air so crisp and pure it burns

not only do I endlessly scavenge for poetry subjects to scoop up and write about but from another appendage of my brain I’m crafting the same material into skits for Saturday Night Live like dueling t

how comforting the visit of rain on a sleepless night the finger-drumming of drops on the roof of my wakefulness a cold and lonely discourse right above the warm cocoon of my bed and this one speaks t

bottom of page