To be a dew drop
would be nothing like
being the ocean

it wasn't ever meant to be
personified that way

more like the sound of relief
and the unknown
because you never know what is coming
at the time of the morning
at which dew drops appear.

My hair is a tuft of clouds
Who knows
Maybe I could find an angel
Hidden there
Having fallen from the skies

Moons, stars,
planets you
are nothing less
then an earthquake.
For in my heart
you reside.
Deep and
sound, you have built
in me cities, that are
ethereal, for in my words I
can not describe
What are you?

I don’t know what you call it
when you throw the glass
with a broom already in hand
maybe I just wanted to know
if it would make a sound
when I simply can’t.

Sometimes I keep
the curtains closed
I don’t want to see
the day or listen
to its violence,
I plant flowers in
dark corners,
I plant flowers where
the old ones have
passed sway,
I know there is a
reason for soft music,
I welcome the gentle
waves of consolation,
I hear poetry in the
slow movement of time …
Clay.M