By Louis Warner
The monumental mystery of the [my?] mind is
stuck between wires, between witnesses, between worlds
the white paper spans infinitely in front of me
broken by no color, by no texture, by no sound
a single word between joy and despair
one whisper separates wholeness from confusion
hear me.
as I fumble between fact and truth
learning where to be soft and harsh
delivering syllables and satiety
standing feet down, head deeper, holy,
baring my innocent soul, free from flesh
a rookie magician with no doves,
only love.
join me.
sit with me and manipulate your hands,
your mouth, in the peculiar ways we all
learned to understand as infants
link your fingers, hand, mind
with mine in absolute silence
waiting impatiently for the page to tell
a perfect story.
tell me.
so I can let your gentle words in
your endless, beautiful scenes
and sudden, horrific discoveries
hearing with every atom, every neuron
dying to feel what you feel know if I
feel it too.
release me.
and yourself, as we bury
deeper into the earth, into the heath
of the heart.
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