The Absence of Wavelength

The Voice From Fog Water

Voice in night anchors me, disembodied
Where I lie alone in dark
Where I float, reach
But cannot touch a soul
With words uttered, muttered
In the chosen black romance
Too dense for images to develop, enveloped
In fear, nothing near

Sound rises, raises me, interplanetary,
Adrift on fading belief
Something could rescue
Pluck a being from tempest deep, haunts
I long to keep that held me
Held me down, spine, organs,
Heavy blood matting deep
In the fibers of a vacuum
That swallows dreamers, spits out
A cynic, poorly dressed, unclean
For the immaculate deceivers
Who couldn’t possibly be
Angels to me

High the sound escapes, divided
by tide silence, rolling over my body
Washing out into a thin horizon,
Gray all the days; I beg for night,
For something warm to hold tight.
Eyes penetrate this space,
Frown upon a fool disgraced.
Doesn’t want to lift up, sinks
To silt bottom like stones cast.

Raise the rim higher, pound
A tempo upon these cans.
A racket. Door closed. Louder
A voice rises above all the rest.
A song I hear buried deep in breast
Flows out my chest, skims and skitters
Across your fog waters. Yet to see
If the sun will rise, shine on me.
Don’t seek it, reluctantly veil
All in my heart with every wail.

Swallowed whole in arriving tides,
Anchored, won’t find any shore.
Voice in night never feels fright
But free from any who can’t conceive
The true identity you won’t believe
Resides in a callous heart, long deceived.


12.2.23

I’ll revisit another time. Not really trying. Just going whatever way the wind blows my pinwheel mind.
Poetry:same results