A Hard, Hard Rain

What shall we do, says the
pauper to the princess?
Where can we go
from this dizzying here?
We’ll dance on the precipice
the razor’s fine edge
where one drop
one spill
changes all that is dear
where life is the drama,
when love is the soma
nothing ventured
nothing gained
but fear.

But the marrow is often hardened,
not sweet and easy,
and Thoreau
is in no danger
of sainthood.
Confessions
like rain
are beguiling
and pregnant
full of unction
and unintended
consequences
full of fertility
fecundity
entropy
and erosion
deleterious
dichotomous twins.

Precipitation pacified
made predictable
potable
filtered for consumption
impurities removed
with impunity
whether by osmosis
or carbon
attraction and repulsion
the vectors vanquished
properties improved
the vexes and guilts too.

Precipitates, distillates
settle to the bottom
frost versus snow
winter versus autumn
sludge or detritus
description defies us
love or licentious
the Pharisees will try us
righteous or redundant
the Philistines will deride us
deliberate or distant
heaven won’t abide us
obscene or obsolete
we are channeling Aquarius.