After Reading Difficultly

How might I
walk alone outside
the comfort of my
home
Below the
impenetrable cover,
the deluge and hue
of dense water
from clouds that, at
least release
rain drenching my
uncombed hair
yet not soaking
my
water resistant
jacket that I
wear. I do not
stand naked.
Only

vulnerable.
venerating.
impairing

my vision. the clouds
cover me with a form–
idable body of rain

though,
they never refrain to reveal
the sun light

Still, I walk
with a hunch
from the weight of the rain
into the wind fumbling
with my keys trying
to get to my car


Untilted

How irrevocably
written is a poem
once someone has
read it? How soon
can the words be
changed with conviction
by the poet; or for that matter
by the internal
audience;

The only farewell is
the one that comes
too late– :||

I bow to the ostentatious
applause