sound_of_thunder raze the sky claps its hands like any attentive audience would, as erratic flash photography does to the air what humidity does to the bodies of unguarded solid wood guitars, pushing and pulling whatever's willing to be moved. vertical clouds tower over us, two fused spirits confined to tiered boxes in separate corners of the same southwestern city. i say your name to taste its tang on my tongue, and the storm we share carries me to you on a ripple of rain. 220318 what's it to you? who go blather from