#2118 - the fog

 

2118

6.290

18.x.25

the fog

yours truly

 

sometimes you’ll wake up not there

 

last idea left

yesterday’s a light year gone

 

that is, of course, a distance on foot

 

my cloud unknowing now

 

and why?

none remember

least of all

 

the order as in any bird

 

a picture takes your day apart

but you can still be here

 

woke in this cloud for a habit

knew words but not from where

 

why should a person be named?

 

in all the green far of was, tell me

 

how one pill is another, head further

then the heart apace

 

that’s the aliens

no insect than bigger

 

still this music lives

 

one morning woke up without

should sharpen something else how

polish my own mist

 

there are days one ought

 

and I expect you to join the dots

who else but

 

leafless in my own treetops

 

it’s any head my own

 

don’t you worry about me

I know what day it is

 

do you feel that a day is missing?

 

still this music lives