Maureen Foley

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Clouds
mmmn(a section from a long poem entitled Salt Light Distance)
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Up in the sky, bring in the sense of these things-
passing- Away- a turn of phrase- Too much bright- Eclipse
the sun-
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Clouds remind me of texture- Teeth- A bit chomped in the
celestial away looking down- Clouds mirage the sky-
Evaporate like incandescence- A strange knocking in the
wall- A cloud like a whisper, cloud like a zipper, cloud
like a hand folding the blue laundry sky- Ordinary mist
escaping, the ocean attracts clouds, creates heaves of
light escaping air-
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Refracting pink in the morning or late at night- Lungs full
of clouds, the surface trying to fill- Air, cliff, a voice
that's failing- A mountain of tan and pink encircled by a
path- There's no way to travel up or down- Keep climbing
until he tells you to leave the bike there- It's not your mountain-
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The end is nowhere, the end is here-
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Clouds are the manifestation of water at one point in their
cycle- They will keep looking down from above- We need
them- Of course turbulence, wind patterns, shifting-
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Evolving, like telling a story of transition- Colder, the
energy of air and you're looking at me- Blown off the cliff
into the distance of forgetting- We're not sure who we are
in a new place- A house that is dark water inside, the cast of
light- Ashes in the gray, absorbed.
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I look down and see backyards full of pools, green lawns-
Everything from above is condensed into finite borders and
clean crisp color- From a distance the world appears
geometric-
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The way the hips move against the red backdrop- palms and
all we have left is light- the distance in forgetting- We
can't understand the sounds- Some people collapse against a
backdrop of approaching light- Distance- let's observe the
faculty for knowing- Waiting for the phone call- Patterns
are repeating texture- Diligence- absorbed and known-
Absorbed and seen-
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Of course, there's no difference between the skit that's on
fire and the legs above and below it- A skirt is an
arbitrary line in the sand- Convince me that clouds are
essential- Entangled, a nightmare- Graphite clouds, smudged
chimeras- Dreaded and lopsided, the little hoops above the
horizon- If I knew you, I'd say something different.
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Gold and square, like salt that is encrusted with the
elements, we eat the clouds that fall at our feet- We are
servants to the language that we speak- Melody and a
strange yellow cast, through the walls of salt, thirsty
just thinking-
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C'mon let's find a seat- There's a way to work that is also
solidly in touch with ground fires- I see ash and I
remember the yellow-smoke light and the leaf that
disintegrated in my palm in the backyard at the old house-
When did we move? Are you moved? Blue hills that surround
the distance- We have surrendered our own knowing-
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Tell me the story of why- Freessias smelling predictably
sweet-
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