I fear silence
for it leaves me
to my words.
Their whispers
mouth
my periphery,
like minnows
tear a worm’s
flesh from
the steel hook
glimmering
in a creek’s
slow eddy.
(May 11, 2021)
Alone
Category: silence
turn turn turn (140)
with spring’s violence flowers burst
into bloom from winter’s death
as chimes toll slowly in the tree
mere weeks ago ice creaked
tightly along the chase tree’s
twisted branches as the chimes
hung limp and people froze
to death alone at home
(May 9, 2021)
Layers (122)
the cat slept all day
turned tightly into herself
a sublime wisdom
snow begins to fall
silencing the day’s hard sleet
the night grows colder
ice brightens the moon
along the bare branches’ backs
like a hot whip’s snap
by morning the snow
drapes the yard as if with light
the chimes slowly sound
a lone mockingbird chirrups
inside the house the cat waits
(February 18, 2021)
doorway (113)
formed out of these walls to shape
the air to separate here from there
beneath the dark winter quilts
my skin presses to your warmth
longs to be more than my limits
more than what’s contained inside
more an opening to other spaces
other ways with different lines
to cross with a limping accent
a creole to hone words into an edge
I know only what I know
my cell wall’s textures memorized
through the season’s slow change
the light and shadow through the bars
play their fingers in the silent air
like puppets alive to the string’s pull
neither a whimper nor a bang (111)
the last whisper’s echo went
as if the silence was always there
behind his last breath which fell
away like ash from an ember
simply not there any more
not even a hole where he once stood
(January 27,2021)
source
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey”(73)
beneath this static
this white noise
silence flows
unnoticed
pervasive
the river’s source
as in prayer i kneel
cup my hands
and drink
(July 9, 2020)
in the absence of god
from a work in progress, “process, not a journey” (66)
a grey cat twitches
her tail in the grass
.
who has time
to listen
to a sparrow’s
stressed twit-twit
from a tree
(June 19, 2020)
Surface Tensions
“stop, children, what’s that sound
everybody look what’s going down”
—Stephen Stills
Another day spreads across the sky
as the flood waters continue to rise.
There is little to stand upon now
that does not tip into complicity.
Ice melts along its edges. One moment
we are there watching the turmoil
below our feet, then the ice is gone,
and we are all breathing water,
floundering in the lies we live.
Our words fill our lungs, and
silence gurgles past our lips
as we slip slowly deeper
beneath the cold gelatinous sea,
to drown in our undeserved comforts
(June 8, 2020)
Contained
“I contain multitudes”
-Walt Whitman
I am not a voice,
but an echo of silence—
before and after.
Like dried flowers in old books,
I live pressed within these folds.
(May 27 2020)
excise
from a work-in-progress: process, not a journey (38)
I like the silence of morning the slow hum
of the refrigerator from the kitchen
the soft purr of the cat curling around me
as I wait for the coffee pot to finish
it is there beneath all of these sundry sounds
that the true weight of silence can be measured
as each strain’s lifted from the cacophony
and there’s nothing left but the strum of our blood
(March 11, 2020)
