Words
I speak them
Words you say them and I
Listen.
Words
Fingers pointing
Towards the world
Gestures in a direction
Bridges spanned across lives.
Words
Not the reality
The deep essence of things
Simply sounds
visual marks on a page
Flowing across our
Consciousness
Sometimes seeping below this surface
Infecting deeper
Imagination
And drawing
Pictures and symbols
Expressing vocal music
Straining to touch each others
Center
Head or heart
Reaching outward
Outside our self
Our little egos
Rowing slowly toward the shore
Which is other.
Words
Planks and skids
Of humanity
Edifices of approximations
And not exactitude
Waving a verbal visual
Hand
Across the horizon
Pointing to the direction
A van Gogh assault on canvass
The colors bright and startling
Words.
Words
Signals
Sounds
Touch
Gestures of community
Of communication
Always falling short
Always leaving spaces between the actions
Always “not good enough”
Forcing our inner life to connect
As well as our ways might enable
But, sometimes the communication
Is like the Radio Astronomer
Searching for any sign of intelligence
And settling for static.
Richard W Smith
January 9, 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment