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