Sunday, June 22, 2014

Week 25: Flood Gates

The book-of-the-week for Week 25 is titled Flood Gates. It's a poem about the bounty of rain.

cover paper painted with indigo dye then letterpress printed
The poem was written in India ink onto hand-dyed paper that was glued together to make one long accordion folded strip. Hard cover-boards were attached to each end, and the title was letterpress printed using Brush typeface.
handwritten poem and pages tipped end-to-end
The pages, of handmade paper, were splattered with natural dyes... including walnut, osage orange, brazilwood, and indigo.
a close-up of the pages 
This is the poem...Flood Gates

Who knew when it started
it would be such a day?
The clouds came in
filling the sky gray

and the air cooled
the shadows 
one big
overcast mass
of stillness

In the distance, 
its deep bass 
rumble and growl 
warning, warning, warning us all.

Then the first drops fell
big and happy
plopping and pinging
all over the roadway,
the sidewalks,
the parched yards
the trees 
and the flowers.

The rain came in then 
sure and drenching
in sheets
flapping and waving
and washing away 
the dust
the grime
and every little bug 
and bud
in it’s way

It poured over the rain spouts
and into the gutters
rushed down the hillsides into 
the gullies and creek beds
quickly swelling
and clogging
the low spots and flatlands
with puddles and pools, 
and broad little lakes

So the drivers slowed down
it was that hard to see
and the walkers took 
in stores and doorways
and under bridges and trees
as best 
they could.

The wind blew the rain 
and turned umbrellas inside out
sent hats wildly flying 
while the raindrops pelted us
like BB’s on bare skin
and the window panes
rattled and the air
was  a roar.

Meanwhile the thunder 
grew louder,
its growl more insistent
followed by snap cracks of 
that startled the nerves 
frightened little babies 
and the grown folks 

And the water just kept coming
the rain never ceasing
the torrents above
and the torments below
It was a drenched world
of wetness
the Sky Gods 
were weeping

and everything not sheltered 
was soaked, sodden or 
and the mud just kept 
the Flood Gates 
had opened.

Who knew 
when it started
it would be 
such a day?

streaming down the stairs...

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