Gallery 3

Clouds



Grey foam softly becomes
This distillation from my being
Grey form entangles wisps
Of stolen feeling from my head

Between myself and clouds
There is no division
They hurt gently like love come to
From a hundred years of solitude

Clouds explain the difference
Between you and me, I’m sorry,
I can only make you see
The grey mass among my mystery

The colors underneath are free
I’m afraid intemperate ugly form
Would hide from sight and plea
Against cold accusation

Were your wind to whip away
This stratus on to stratus lay
The shroud again reveals the shrouds
Its only more uncovering clouds