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THE PROBLEM WITH SILENCE
... is there is so much room in it;
room that invites exercise
or imagination
or failing that, watching the circus
10,000 glamours
speckled minnow trout thoughts.
Silence is deep enough for long vision;
like expensively ground glass
it rings when I strike it just so.
I have clumsily shattered it.
Last night I slept beneath the wordless stars;
even the freeway kept its peace.
My ears reached for your articulations
doeskin touch of your breath.
Babblers steal the opportunities
from wise old bards
who nevertheless get the nut
at each cracking.
Knowing begins in silence.
Thought stalks quietly as a garbage truck,
And words rattle in the windy alley
Like cans racing for the curb.
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Mmm, yes. A poem that I can really sink my teeth into. Yes, I live in Minot, North Dakota. This place is ripe with simplicity, not only in enviornment, but in the people as well. I often hear the phrase, "Ugh. I am just thinking too much." I didn't realize that there was such a thing. Your poem reminded me of this debate. In silence we are left with our thoughts. These can tend to run rampant through "speckled minnow trout thoughts."
I like how in your poem silence equates to thought, but thought equates to the exact opposite of silence. Thoughts become deafening in the presence of silence.
I will return to this poem again. |
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| I really like your style...unpredictable with serious wisdoms and depth of thought... |
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