Wednesday, October 7, 2009

A Language Like Wind

Air howling, waves, impossible voices.
Together there, so frail, the same ideas; all noises, unending.
So crawl into an encounter.
So crawl into my father’s [eyes] staring back
magnifying the same ideas [of] all noises unending.
Tell me a compulsory nothing.
Again my eyelids were caked with a story [of] tracing tomorrow.
I invent here language like my own self's meaning,
scraps of language, my shadow, vaguely there.
So I conclude that you want to be silent.
Perhaps absolutely unknown, but what now?
Wind drowns my bones, hammering my speech far from falsehood,
from [the] thick hallucinating fog.
In my heart I invent here a language like wind.

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