Cloud Nation

Good morning this is your life-

boat tethered to a tree. It is morning time

which means you have a location.

There is food for fodder to be foraged, found

[huckleberry, mulberry, cloudberry] you are a location,

Underneath a nation of clouds sideways of language,

say, stratus, say cumulous say, cumulonimbus,

this vowel of mourning this trapdoor of seasons,

You are twenty-nine in a rainy season.

Here, a dark forest you bump into

[silence, sequoia, sky] everything for the feeling,

to touch a body strangely to strangely touch that body,

the month of October a place you once were.