june second. twenty ten

in the space between our words fly feeling like haphazard beings of locomotion

not yet classified as flight they are free from the talons of The Label

the deep set weight, the pressure is building and this one is not to be jumped off of, this one has a metallic structure only constructible 

in a pitch-canvas tent were the absence of vibrations are the playdough of the welder-gods 

and the outcome is something no hijacked plane can ever crash into

The muffled echoing of snow 

feet movement 

under a static blanket

the absence of sound is not silence but rather something akin to death. silence is the presence of the pure,

white and black light meeting in the embrace of joy screams, 

without noise we are rendered visible to all,

our perceptions a changeling no longer willing to live without the birthmother, returning home it shall find the silence, 

silence of a horses hooves on the bones of it’s master, 

the travelers son no longer wants to be the calling boy, he has left and will not return, he goes in silence and leaves behind…the absence of sound.

within our silence is held all the noises that were not made, not yet uttered, all the meaning that we meant, floating, 

crushing 

our lips             our sense              our vocal chords 

straining, can we reach the language of the divine and return to tell the tale in the tongue of the masses, 

let us communicate under the excruciatingly inadequate noun.

silence.

oblivion.

write about a silence.