Embrace the Rain
What lovely stars in the sky
poppies for the mosaic and the manly glass
to the sanguine color of the wooden crown
there are no dew but self-assured
cycles of maternity and transparent.
Stars of celestial free diamond.
You say, what is the book waiting for in its cashmere current?
I tell you it is waiting for elixir like you
I want you to awaken on my mouth
the sanguine angel that is naked and myriad
the thick ness of the horse, the power of the earth?
Like muscles reflecting inside keys
I took on profound trousers.
Neither miracle nor school nor transparent
nor yellow but sepia
pride and splendor – candles of tiredness
next to the silvery mouth of the electricity.
A Critical Review of Embrace the Rain
The poem crackles with unexpected juxtapositions: celestial “stars” meet “manly glass” and “poppies for the mosaic.” Diction vibrates with surreal bricolage and electric energy.
Lines resist fixed meter yet hum with internal rhythms—from echoing assonance to surprising alliteration. The formal tautness shows every word is carefully chosen.
Visual layout is spare and contemplative; stanzas fragment into uneven clusters. White space and hesitant enjambment recall modernist precedents without mimicking them.
The imperative title “Embrace the Rain” reframes a mundane phenomenon as radical welcome. Conceptual wordplay feels both nurturing and submersive.
Cosmic symbols warp into an electrically charged vision of angels and stars. Mythical echoes carry an undercurrent of tension between flesh and spirit.
Phrases like “book waiting for elixir” and “profound trousers” feel freshly strange and genre-bending. Unexpected non sequiturs sharpen the poem’s experimental edge.
The poem navigates between innovation and cliché, flirting with portentous language while undercutting it with playful imagery. Its daring leaps inhabit a liminal zone of meaning.
Final stanzas swap institutions for color—“nor yellow but sepia”—before contrasting human fatigue with “the silvery mouth of the electricity.” It captures our collective burnout under screen-glow insomnia.
Occasional opacity—like “cycles of maternity and transparent”—asks readers to parse floating qualities rather than concrete nouns. These gaps become reflective surfaces for personal interpretation.
Every hesitation and opaque gesture contributes to a textured surface where sound, sight, and concept mingle. The poem becomes a mirror in those undecidables.
The closing irony shows no storm arrives, only muted “sepia pride and splendor.” Readers find themselves amid burnished longing rather than neat resolution.
This lyric unsettles assumptions and invites deep attention to craft, offering both disquiet and delight. To embrace its rain is to welcome the poem’s mysterious gifts and enduring riddles.