by Arthur Klepchukov
Recorded the sound of rain
but can’t hear when it repeats repeats
repeats, is every rain drop unique
like every snowflake, or are
they just reflections of
a somber surround?
Took off my glasses for a blurry fog
but can’t see where it retreats retreats
retreats, a gorgeous mess of
color, is every splat alive like
feelings want you to believe?
Yawned to create time
but the moments can’t be captured captured
captured, amorphous as those
pretty blurs, slipping