Clouds Poem by Michael Speier

the century of clouds, are you sure?
their surfaces as enigmatic
as their tactical ploys against centrifugal forces
unhurried shift of time and potential
you glimpse them from the benighted slum
of the economy class in gliding-by trains
or from the president's lounge where one showers
and drinks cost nothing, clouds you think
- come into being, already fleeing -
in which you bathe your depression
when the heavens close,
clouds pear-shaped or holding the stage
like walls, fractal, cheerful,
not fixated on fixating, fleeting
balance struck between atomisation
and centralisation (like the ego) like data
that cannot be retrieved
like the time between copy & past

Translated by Richard Dove