Friday, January 30, 2009


There are moments, I know, when nothing can be expressed;

no words spoken, aloud. The failure of language becomes completely exposed,

like the maple tree in my front yard,

leafless and cold.


We set such a premium upon the spoken word,

little knowing the history its seen:

Old, black, men on porches

have taught.

Even, in the pause

and taking in of breath,

silence has its place.


When my silver-tongue ceases to speak

I’ll take my cue from these:

Bound and boundless

are words.

Only love

can find them.

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