clean slate
The pen is rhythmless--
it makes sounds meaningless.
explosions land dense
and attenuate into thuds
onto surrounding dead ground
screams dissipate soft
into lossy acoustic funnels
like padded white-cloaked rooms
I've no need to wonder
why you don't hear..
I know the outer
dead space still hums
with the flutter and wave
of wings that sweep away
invader cranes that
linger long their skeleton feet
in muddy, waterwashed banks.
elPintor
Thu 29th Sep 2016 01:51
Hello, All,
You got it..it must be because we are so much more than our words, David. Though, it can seem like disappearance from the world when we cease to use them. I've seen times when I could barely speak for days on end because I was so far removed from the world I was forced to physically inhabit.
I tried, here, to blend elements of silence, sound, and movement. I suppose that's where the flightless "bird" comes in at the end. It's always there because it's unable to go anywhere of it's own accord--a lazy antagonist who leers and prods and picks because of it's own inherent lack of creativity. I have a hard time coming to terms with it's existence--even within the confines of my own writing.
Thanks for reading and, as always, I'm grateful for your comments.
elP