JANUARY SEEMINGS

  

Today my brains

are like clouds

in a windswept sky.

 

Without concentration

they bounce about my skull

like a roomful of ping-pong balls.

 

Perhaps it was the blizzard,

and all those feet of snow

that walked round my house for hours--

 

stood on the roof, waiting,

till that old arctic wind

blew them off into a break-dancing

 

frenzy in mid-air: Fancy footwork,

disintegrating in wild

self-abandonment to the windswept sky--

 

scattered like brain-clouds

through January’s gray Mind

of trackless amplitudes.