Saturday, July 19, 2008


I have frayed these words thin
Worn-through apologies and angry tatters
The tongue aches to be revitalized
But ancient connotations blanket me in dust
And fade the fragments of expression
Across this fabric of language and thought

What jaws will rend the sound
Or cold wind freeze the naked form
What frost-white consumption of guilt
And pleasure will trade in metaphor and cajole
We will speak no more of lies and truth
At last, night, and the Quietude of silence