through gunmetal
clouds of my own
not-yet-knowing
which rage
like mad over
the tops of
of my shoulders,
the clean
hot electric
light
of a thought
will flash its effulgent
and pliant pith
setting
something deep in me
rumbling sympathetically—
until eventually
raining down
hectic drivel
in wet
jazzy patterns—
when my mouth tries
to mention it.
