JOHN MOST

THE CLOUDS ARE NOT CLOUDS

the cemetery is also
an overlook–taking

on the horizon, a volcano,
a pronounced stillness–
we, in between the wide ocean

and the dead, smile for the stern camera.
behind us, floating above the crater,

a cloud with eyes on all sides–as if
free, we look indirectly
into the intricacies of
a partially configured tomorrow

TO THE END

watch copies watch watchers
interpret the stages of life
or, straight-backed, roll down the park’s hill

reimagine actions reenacted

the dolorous wind can’t bend such staunch
affections. look through them
looking through piles of discarded
things, antiques starry, off-topic problems

as though their crinkled expressions escape
all standards–a power derived
from knowing their soon to be
complete knowledge of brighter pictures

THE TOWN IS STILL A TOWN

the hollow’s unmoved

the pavement’s greyer, the little brick house
is dirtier and devoid
of sense it feels like I’ve come home. you

are home. is it mourning
joy or that the feelings

are not genuine would phrases
so pretty lie

comfort’s a drug

John Most is a poet. His latest video poem is “dreams will be sounds.” He has560552_10151064789957400_526100219_n written many books of poetry, including Persephone, Atelier, and What Thoughts. He earned a PhD in Media and Communication from the European Graduate School.