[Avant-Garde Effects]

[Poem]

Sitting on steps, the topmost

There's a pasture before me

Where the brief shadows of small trees are plain to see at 2 a.m

Where the moon lights the back of a head

Bowed in respect of all that is

I'm not sure I want to talk anymore

Maybe there is something I could say a poet would feel

Maybe there's no need

A true poet already sits beside me

Head bowed to the moonlight

I am at once alone and inside everything

Even in the den of the world there is a silence that sings of reverence

There is a space that cannot be described

In that space words are noise:

Substantiated evidence of distraction, a step behind now

An understandable preoccupation of the mind's attempt at solving a mystery

So I am not sure if I want to talk anymore

Some days my heart is heavier than I knew I could bear

Some days it floats beyond gravity's reach

And words are heavy

To use them lets loose an anchor that only proves the science of causality

I know these things

Though the knowing mostly serves as a reminder of an absence

Maybe only momentary, or

Until the moon shines once more on a poet's bowed head

So I am not sure I want (much) to talk

There is no sayable clarity

No translation in large print

There is only this moment

And I live inside it alone

But look upon the world with eyes that say what can't be said

[Avant-Garde Effects]