East Coast Autumn Storm

Vintage Words


More than a house,
more than memories, the roof is
on fire, the waters are


The cameraman is blowing in winds

coming up from the South. 

The pendulum camera swings 
It is time to go before the News
becomes the story.


Less than a catastrophe,

nobody died in this family,

but the drowned and recovered

belong to someone, like the houses

and the lives washed into the ocean,

as the drains, blood tinted 
and dirty, overflow.


There are drowned fish where
my porch used to welcome
me home. Stay or go? That is

a question that haunts. Live
or survive, continue to inhale
and respire pictures of distresses

and narrow escapes.


There is no true calm afterwards, only
statistics and insurance claims for 

replacing furniture and windows.

Cars are beached on concrete shores,

There is no towel or tissue that

can dry up so many new rivers.







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