The Holy Nimbuses are just tarnished halos of fool’s gold!

The minutia of cotton fledglings, I play them over and over
In my head, the most enjoyable, a layer of dynasty added to
The mallard kingdom. And a rocking horse swims across
Each pond too, its head heaves and nags creating massive, huge,
Undulating circles around circles. One more coat of gesso and then
Even I, in my speckled red paint Commune jeans, and holy holy Protestant tee shirt, I can travel the world; maybe even brush up on my
Cuyp.

Whipping through the sedge-brook grass, busting out, shooting Through the other mucilaginous nimbuses rolling
Outward first, then fled upward into the beacons of the heavens-
Shouting, whistling, oozing albicant heraldic pillars and shields.

Twenty more colours to mix.
Together, the mallards and ewes and rocking horse, and I;
prancing, little dots, filing into order. Where nursing
Against the sunken pillows of grain, I enter each round of
This papyrus jungle. Neatly folding my hands around each
Milky white shade, rushing out  into the aurulent sunglow. .

Sometimes I feel,
As if I’m lost.
Perhaps — I could,
Live under innocent white and blue skies,
Adoring pink fescues and red saccharum,
and
tangerine sunsets that
careen lavender and ivory,
aroma candied
arousing the birds, but rather
I am
Mending memories within the black nimbuses
within my cerebrum
Attempting to occlude unhappiness
But with the zephyr
The castle walls drop
The crows intrude, and ignorance floods
Now
I am drowning,
Grasping onto torched remnants of
A people that I once enjoyed,
Until their eyes were forced shut
from the stinging salts
and their words became
as venomous as mambas.

Grey nimbuses descend upon my mind
The perpetual downpour flooding the brain
I try to escape but I’m hard-pressed
****** right into the vortex of emotions.

Trying to perceive the dissonance
I changed paths
Walked and treaded, went looking for the mendacious among the  
Well read, there lay somnambulant desires
Was time and space, I could not face the present summer months seem longer
The billowing nimbuses turned into the peach clouds meant to be there
Sadness washes over your face like acid and acrid Pink Floyd
The painkillers just wash down your sink with the medication
The window of torture in the soul's window
Call it watching the smokescreen with scion meant watching
The sunrise
The same reminiscent pain comes to haunt you again
They're watching and praying
I hope you find your wealth in good luck, but good wealth in bad luck
But, you can't be rich and pretend to not talk about it
Go ahead then let's talk about it

Rose Day upon the heart,
Nimbuses drawn together,
A steep descent
of the crisp water,
The wind breaking the flow,
Fish at feast,
Almonds in desserts

Many moods
In one evening-palm
Of February

should i inherit
the good days
and find myself
rolling on grassfields
teeth bared and barefoot,
i will think of you.

and should
i dance around
on barren land,
nimbuses by my ankles
and still river,
i will think of you.

my dear,
i’m afraid
i cannot fathom a day
that i dont.
i would not want to.