One small cloud, cast out by the herd, limps away to the west.
It is raining blood today.
I open my book and write “Black Lives Matter
Different cities visit us daily, they exist in the clouds.
A few nights later, I secretly hope that I might be a genius. Why else can no amount of sleeping pills fell my brain? But in the morning my daughter asks me what a cloud is and I cannot say.
Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?
The story of two dreams is a coincidence, a line drawn by chance, like the shapes of lions or horses that are sometimes formed by clouds.
I want to read every book that’s written
hear every song that was sung
I want to gaze at every cloud
and hold the zing of each fruit on my tongue.
I love white clouds and blue sky.
No dark cloud can forever prevent the sun from shining!
Let’s Run in the circle, opposite to each other. Until we are thrown into the sky by the storm swirling in between us. I’ll hold your hands and I’ll hug you, let me be your wings. Let’s fall on that clouds and let’s dance on the rainbow. Let’s bore a hole in that sky until we fall back to the sea with the rain. And Let’s swim back to the shore, to play the game of circle again.