The clouds today
look faint and
far away as abstract concepts
for which
the listless living
have no uses—
the way their great
and beige-white plumages
edge without care
or consternation over boundaries
into that opaque
inconsequence of blueness,
for one everlasting moment, has
nothing to say—
which says something great
about the shabby significance
of the piece of that air
which I've been using.