.
Inside the eye of a new storm
the question, are you lost? comes
as a little nesting tornado, a windy
Matryoshka tucked naturally within the wind before
like tiny tempests that lift street leaves
—miniscule funnels by standards of Tornado Alley
but if you’re small (small as a small thought)
the small question, are you lost in this new storm?
looms like a building tsunami off the beach at your feet,
its swelling, horizon-lifting wave poised
in the instant before the thought:
oh yeah, yesterday would be better —
then there, in the shutter-click before it rakes the landscape,
in the time before too-late
……….……it is still
inside the eye of a new storm,
everything’s familiar;
Whomever brings no new revelations—
news, in fact, is always old-hat,
but a hat with fresh band-feather
love and hate (ghosts with heartbeats)
are eternal as new babes, and
to be lost in a new storm
is as natural as death & breath
by Jim Culleny
3/11/12
Blink 