05
Jun
09

Shapes in the weather

Shapes in the weather

I saw truth
Hovering over the spiky heads
Of the pineapples

Time had bore
Greedily over these conversations
Left us spent

Outside
Plantations were a blurred
Intransience

All the while
The silence was building
Like white heat

No more inert
Than the world was fatalistic
We stood opposed

Travelling
Armed with facts about the weather
A crumpled countenance

Still, the shapes
Of the hinterland cling to us
Softer beyond this.

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