The Slilence
The slilence is the sound
of no sound sliding backwards
feet first, nose pressed to the edge
of the crease where no crease is.
The sound of no sound is loud,
and stick and branches clatter
louder than the slilence in still wind.
See the limp flag sagging in the stillness?
The sound of that silence deafens.
That which hears the prick of pen
on paper plate, or pen on skin
strains to hear the breath of the slilence
wrapping itself around the universe at night.
of no sound sliding backwards
feet first, nose pressed to the edge
of the crease where no crease is.
The sound of no sound is loud,
and stick and branches clatter
louder than the slilence in still wind.
See the limp flag sagging in the stillness?
The sound of that silence deafens.
That which hears the prick of pen
on paper plate, or pen on skin
strains to hear the breath of the slilence
wrapping itself around the universe at night.
posted by Poetry Revolutionist at 10:31 PM
2 Comments:
Are you high? Drunk? Brilliant?
It's so fucking odd and bizarre that it must be either completely retarded or immensely brilliant.
In either case, I have a difficult time comprehending. But isn't that the point of good poetry?
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