Clouds Gathering

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The overwhelming grayish of a
Sudden cloud-cover, in its
Moment’s abrupt entry diffuses
Lover from lover, as their hurried last waves,
Caught in a voyeur’s candid reel
As an artist’s occupation, saves what his soul conceals.

XXL fat forty somethings — the blaze of a
Shimmering pastel pantheon, blurring from sight
What flashes in flesh in between — flapping their arms
Like vertically trained whales
Cuts across the horizon full steam a sail.
Perspiration before the plumbing of rain.

The picking up of the blow, shelled
With a javelin’s vigour, calls for
Incessant horning as a lorry fails to pick
In the yellowing eye of the colour lights
Where, just in case, a cop stands; in spite
Of poetic technology, waving his hands.

Mischievous October, where the colour fades so low
In so rapid, unprologued motion in
Shades no poetry’d know: pale schoolgirl,
Alone, evening classes done, sidestep from bother
In search of the sun. Clouds gather, where all other
Skip before the run.


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