Thoughts move over a day | The shadows of clouds move across a landscape | touching | neither the earth nor the sun
Clouds moving over an April sun | Thoughts of empire or starfish / Exiles from a city of light / shadows banging at the gates / asking to be let in again / begging for a little lukewarm saltwater or a golden crown
Starfish shadows | Five-pointed words, giving them edge | Eyes move over a poem, and words | touch
As for these clouds, drifting across an empty pixel sky, they touch | nothing••
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from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)
(this poem, April 2012)
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