Discerning Shapes on a Winter Morning

A comma. I don’t pause very often. I pause too often. An ear. I gave up listening a long time ago. A cloud trail. Is there an end? A cloud-tail. Fast disappearing like my sense of self.

I remind myself that nothing is constant. Except maybe for this. A score of nows.

in a funk my muse and i

 

Shloka Shankar

Discerning Shapes on a Winter Morning

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