Experiments with Dry Ice…




http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004C15NNW (my amazon author’s page)

To say,

breath floating away from you

from me

in puffs of white billowy


the birth place of clouds

as we stand

the words tumbling around us

“Look” the child cries to his mother

“I am making a cloud” his

breath floating away from him

as well

but his


and ours lost?

Do we speak of truth or

lips moving we lie

our cloud

black on the inside

no lining

no silver



are we building

the storm clouds of spring?

The crows

sit perched


piecing each cloud

with their steely gaze

they watch not the child

they long for storm clouds

they long for rain

and thunder

explosions of

light and sound

that float away from us

our lips moving

our lies escaping



black clouds bringing rain…




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