my clouds are sighing.......................thinking about lunch time and
rain soup...........................................I’m visiting
the ancient nursing home.................where they seem to be
saying it’s lovely and........................I’ll mash it down first
..............................what do they call you
I tell my clouds..................................I forgot to eat
which birds are elevating..................among the gossiping
talk about current events...................like ice and rivers and the
foreign policies of mountains............clouds just like to drift along
..............with the way things have always forgotten
sometimes my clouds.........................fall down
I tell them it’s raining and..................then they don’t feel
different anymore..............................you may think I’m merely odd
I find something agonizing................but erotic in the falling down and
........................ getting back up again so slowly
it feels like holding back.....................the moment of storm to build
anticipation and it arrives....................if the storm never materializes
appreciating your life because ...........you know you’re going to die
of not wanting to die yet ....................even if you know you aren’t yet
.................................finding it pleasurable
