Stubborn the silence
inflicts itself

tense with each
step we step

around each
other ears

burning, burning
thoughts at each

sound the mind
turns back to






            :






We quiet the living
sounds to make them

acute and stand
on edge






            :






That thought is deaf
in the speech vacuum
or else glass exposed to breath

it is a mistake to think
the world can fall
so many million times

toward the sun
and not fall mute
re-entry sounds

not unlike speech
part the air with a puff
after silence

hateful silence ends
what talk could not






            :






The mind turns back to
that point, owned
by it and wound

as it is
wounded, it listens
sideways for

what it wants
and what it wants
to hear turns back

to that point, the power
of it, winding






            :






Not wanting mind

chatter the things
said there still

is no escaping

the mind or why
you’d say
these things now

it doesn’t matter
the mind turns back






            :






The language breaks
before it says

anything, before it
can

The mind is no spider
inching to become you






            :






Silence is the hardest
thing to break
having the strength

of zero, the power
of infinity

There are answers in
affection, simple affection,
simple answers






            :






How little the words
become not having
been used much






            :






The mind spider
inches to become you

We grow tired of reading
each other as signs,

for signs. The arguments
will develop their emissions

as many opportunities
to signal, as many ways

to step up threat
a mostly empty one

tenfold in its usable
enrichments, the range

of possible at bottom
barely noticeable as though

burnt into a hillside.
Whatever answers are






            :






in affection no
matter how simple

no grand gesture
wakes me to you

as invoking you
does, something

that incapacitates silence
should not be so simple

as addressing a word
to make our void aware