Stuck, stuck for the first time in weeks
The floating clouds and I don’t know how to get out;
Passing days, sweep of music on my head, older,
The walls building or falling clouds roll on.

Decay. Or elaboration. Each to each
It feels like life has opened;
No right, no left, just open sky and ways
That my eyes then body tread across.

Look at it. The tattered cloudbanks rolling
Through sheets ironed blue,
Not calling nor being but dreamfloating
Over the bloom of layered trees.

The waves thrust on the bay
A cloud slowly drifts on its way
My eye sees open sky
The world below, abuzz with sound.