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These weeks are trepidatious
cicadas gone silent
saying nothing
no grand jury to get it out of them

Dizzy voices remembered
everything worth saving
nothing else for sure

the face a of a kid on concrete
small pool of blood
riot cops surrounding
no shouts no tear gas
just sun

my mother fell down the stairs
no political motivation
maybe just stage fright

all these things around
images framed in blood
memory soaking in

my solitary confinement
has already started
contempt is a silent sea...

------
someday could be today...





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The following comments are for "silent sea"
by ruina

hairs on neck and arms upstanding
having read your previous post too I might be about to start deluding myself that you and I are in a similar head-space right now… but that’s probably just me and my projectile dysfunction…

I read a hollow bewilderment that resonates with me at present, but you poem, of course, isn’t written for me, it just feels that way. affective/ effective, disquieting but oddly remote… viewed, it feels from a long way off, clear but distant… and thank Christ for that.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: November 6, 2008 )





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