|
The Clouds |
are rearranging
my plans for the day. Schedules
are switched, quick
as reflex
that drive procrastinations.
Shadows
on the ground are not
distinct enough,
faint as coffee stains
on the napkin.
I'm halfway through
the cup,
my alibi to stretch
the afternoon
to indecisions calm as
the castle in
the calendar. Secrets are
palpable in its
windows, elegant
as clouds that layer skies,
or myths of absence
in my room.
copyright 2013
Michael
Caylo-Baradi |
