Cloud Forming
It needs to be populated,
needs a landscape, skyscape
or seascape
some gymnastic escape
into a cloud-forming poem.
Mind meanders,
it picks up diamonds and garbage
from its endless highways.
Mental are the minders
of our inner fires.
Space to be filled
made to talk
from a universal nothingness.
Finger-painting moments.
Populations emerge
over a dim horizon
walk until almost seen,
then too often they turn
only to walk away.
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