Behold the white rage in the voice of
this thunder of
this January rain

Peer well through the window;
you shall see the fatted rage that wakes up
the somnambulist

The rage is distant but distinct,
escorted by bits of frozen clouds
and lean, famished lightning

Peer again and behold this white assembly of
killing spectres
in a background of mourning eclipse with

Lunar talons
and swords of claws
and jars of cold tears

Peer yet again.
I see a tattered pennant of grief fluttering in the
chilly wind of potent death

Shadows of flood rise high
like the tsunamis of Japan,
the height of a mountain in surveillance

Grey elephants trumpet silently,
yellow leopards roar out their lungs in
one frightening ceremony of danger

Tantrums run through the closed portals of
wet singing grass, bracing up for the mangled
temper of this white range.