Dementia

 

       come to mind cloud

come to cloud mind – Marie Ponsot

 

& every now

& then,

i sit by her feet, on her porch

never ever talking.

 

& together,

we watch the soughing

heavens  mutter, str-

etching their

cotton-silvers

 

in lulls  & retorts

of

nearly went  & nearly wait

– crossed & crossed all over.

Continue reading “Berceuses by Petero Kalulé”