we cling to hope
as if clouds had corners

it all hangs in the balance

of what we’re never quite sure

and color leaks
through everything

touching edges
still hoping
for the grey of silence

heartache rolls round
in great waves of destruction

i bleed
you bleed
we all bleed

and you can’t staunch the flow
of life
with an easy off bandage

any more
than you can breathe
when the air
fills with constants

this chair
that tree
a quick flash of smile

memories are never
sincere

nostalgia
always wears
the wrong dress
for the occasion

but underneath
the pulsing river
flows on

the currency of friction
driving us
forward

.

.

.

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as if clouds had corners”

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