it gets too personal. it gets too deep. i lose the contours. the cloud is me. packed in tight.
i realize i was deeply distressed by the beaten photograph of k. the way i didn't dream means it went that deep, joining a strata the emanates yet cannot be reasoned up. clouds under pressure, descended. bedrock. underwater. with the fishes. the mafia say, he swims with fishes. i lose the way again. i can only think of getting back to the water.  clouds make water. water makes clouds. that waterspout dream in between. 

for k. i would like to know what is going on with you. my feeling is what eludes reason. people are in harms way. people go away.