As A Hand Of Cloud / Joshua Alan Sturgill
I see my mind
as a hand of cloud
holding the clouds
as they wander
their blue hillside.
But when I say I see
what mouth builds
words out of delight
at the vision? And
what eye observes the
cloud-hand of the mind
as it learns speech
through touch? Does
the eye-mouth guess
it might (if it would)
see even farther, even
beyond the clouds
— which, though colossal
are, after all
only clouds of mind?
All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2024 by Joshua Alan Sturgill. All rights reserved.
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