Downpour.

Today, so much heat, smoldering and steaming and sweating the life out of the morning and early afternoon. By noon I was in a second change of clothes. And then the gather, the grumble, the release of a storm. We settled down to a hazy, humid evening; at dusk, the western vista was dark trees on a distant hill, silhouetted in shimmer, the air's own whitened setting. The humidity combined with a strange concatenation of emotion and attention and energy swirling today; it's all left me drawn out beyond myself, threaded too thinly, feeling too much, knowing too little, unable to say enough if even I could figure out what to say at all.

At tonight's poetry reading, I inadvertently managed to ink up my own hand and arms, somehow just right for the text I have always been becoming.