In many ways thoughts
are very much like cats.
By that I mean that they
are known to wander in
and stay as long as they like
and never a moment longer.
If you feed or stroke them
they may linger, but please
rest assured that if you really
want them to stay, try
though you might, they
will find an open window
or door and be gone
the next time you look.
What is there in a yawn
that has time inexorably slow,
flattening notes by some unknown
but ever constant fraction of a tone
so that each lingers painfully before proceeding?
A moment is locked in place,
frozen like Schroedinger’s cat
before observation.
There are moments
he said, when everything
is suddenly clear
and obvious to me.
But they slip away
and their shadows
quickly fade away.
She said if you stop
looking for the fog
the clarity might linger
besides, how do you
know what is clear
and what is not.
