from, "Primogenitive Folly"

What clichés lock us into the lives we
live?  The palimpsest laid down long ago:
the whispered fears of our grandparent’s tales
echo through our parent’s approbations
to niggle at the back of our own throats.
The words we speak are never wholly ours,
but form themselves like water around sand:
molding, yet molded; shaping, yet shaped.
Too quickly we accept the languages
of those we despise:  vocabularies
coil, like briar rose, surreptitiously
entangling with their uninspired lies.
Yet we are complicit, acquiescing
within the unsought for definitions.

(August 2001-April 2003)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.