Friday, May 3, 2019


Carry brushes to capture
The patterns of clouds.
The ancient present

Keeps replacing the coming
With new waves of what has been.
Even on your crowded street,
Even in the filthy camp,

Anywhere showing the least
Scrap of crowded sky
Behind the barbed wire,
Behind the hanging laundry,

In the crack between the towers,
The gap in the leaking roof,
The pale patch over the wall
Behind the enemy lines,

The ancient present
Keeps replacing the future
With the patterns of the clouds.

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