Saturday, April 19, 2014

The Voice We Hear Singing After


Only feathered beating remains
The rhythm of wings in air then
Against a window this brief desirable agony

Each word when it leaves the mouth
Like something breathing this instant

Each word wings rapidly into silence

As if the speaker
Could live passionately only
So long as it takes the sound to dissolve

We understand speech
Does not quell mute unseemly angels nor
Between trees and music

A vast blue sky of uncertainty
Leaning in to kiss us


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