Morning thunderheads — three
squaring off against each other
against blue sky & time — Brendel
& Gould, their slight bodies,
thundering & delicately fingering
hands, time takes them too, bar
by bar — below cumulus
sun’s gold burns outward, forces
human eyes (all but Newton’s)
to turn aside, clouds to feather
& froth, from lizard to city arch,
sonogram of liabilities none
can parse — another day’s weather
working through its serendipity.
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