June 12th, 2003


and then

the wind and rains struck down on us, suddenly. The fountain in the reflecting pool was pushed flat against its face by the force of the blast. The trees are being driven about in circles in the courtyard. The raindrops are like steam, curling over the top of the hotel.

Your impotent science gives me nothing with such focused but restrained power. Build me a thunderstorm, minions.

Is it any wonder the ancients anthropomorphised their gods? Like a lovers quarrel, full of brilliance and anger and loud noise, followed by a shower of tears and then a cold silence.

That should be a haiku.


gods, like lovers- anger, noise,
tears, then cold silence.