A gray sky promises nothing.
It laments in folds of its
like the mangled metal
frame of a totaled car
the proper definition of which
requires its describer
in the twisted logic of disasters.
There is beauty in the bleak sky.
There is a certain peace that falls like mist
on those who’ve reached
the bedrock of tragedy.
Written at 10:35 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.