babbling brook once gave comfort, contented sleep
now tasteless, compounds of transparent hydro-oxygen
by weight -small, meandering, and pointless
meaningless vocal infant at least six weeks old
when do words stop? when does poetry begin?
emotional torment must find distraction
thrown into commotion, a world contemplates chaos
disguised as therapy.
The worship of curvilinear marks flowing from lips
external appearance of a clearly defined area
desire felt, desire denied
hiding from the gut
like shadows casting doubt
a tongue as our inebriated mediary, interjecting truth like needles
what can only be felt, not seen IS FOUND
sensations, perceptions examined
touch the interior with method
sound of letters connect to knowing the unknown
dark, dark, dark, dark ness tunnels through sunlight
digesting shadowy realms, heard only in
spoken silence
rejection of subtle
blocks the pathway
no hiding,
desire felt is never denied, not at all, never
ever
the end of sound,
no rhythm in silence, thoughts left alone
alone to wonder about me
how I speak the word
distinguishes dissimilarity
customary self now dissolved
hearing silence
hearing silence
-April 2015