today is one
of those wordless days
when all the words
(and all the king’s men)
don’t do any good
remain buried
deep in the chest
like trying to pass
a hairball
from space
i have looked down
into the chasm
as it yawned
(here’s a bedtime story
and a glass of water)
and felt the void at my back
folded like raven’s wings
nothing stirred before
or behind
only me
in between
some kind of ridiculous meat bridge
between
thought and deed
desire and action
life and death
silence and more silence
here is one
of those wordless places
where the syllables dry up
grapes becoming raisins
under an invisible sun
Words and Feathers 