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

quiet

filling the sky gray

and the air cooled

the shadows 

one big

overcast mass

of stillness

In the distance, 

thunder

rumbled

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 

shelter

in stores and doorways

and under bridges and trees

as best 

they could.

The wind blew the rain 

sideways

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 

lightening 

that startled the nerves 

frightened little babies 

and the grown folks 

too.

And the water just kept coming

the rain never ceasing

the torrents above

and the torments below

It was a drenched world

of wetness

where

the Sky Gods 

were weeping

and everything not sheltered 

was soaked, sodden or 

floating..

and the mud just kept 

rising 

because

the Flood Gates 

had opened.

Who knew 

when it started

it would be 

such a day?

streaming down the stairs...