SERRY
What is said,
This moment,
This word,
Is real, torn, squeezed,
Extruded
From heart and breath
And world.
This sly scribble,
A snake that curves
And curls tight,
Brain deep.
My thoughts
In your voice,
A mask,
A masking.
Laid down,
A trap, cunning gin
Tongue-tying,
Strident
(Though even whispered).
Time bomb.
We sing in chords,
In chorus.
Drum on flesh and earth
Together,
Drum with feet,
Drum with tongues.
Together ululate,
A stampede, a flock.
Syncopate pulse,
We merge.
Never this
String of thought,
Tugged out to tie senses,
Alone, locked on paths
With no cessation.
A spell, an enchanting,
Mazed: ink and electron
Dancing grim tango.
Entangled, entangled
In mind or mouth,
Striving to know escape
Or to know belonging.
The mute language of skies,
The sing of cloud dissolving.
Being nothing
But ourselves
We dive down
And drown.
What i mean is
What eye can mean
What mean is even tranquil
What line dances
What dance thrills out
Worlds words
See spy the key
Notation
Reminders
Remain
Only.
A cool breeze lifts the poplars
A cool breeze learns sound,
Then passes back to silence.
—–
Sparked by a pile of books, a passage of time.
The title, originally ‘Orality’ ( a new word to me, precise and useful but somehow ugly) I changed to ‘Serry’, a very nice concise, old word that sums up both restriction and unity….( I randomly found it whilst checking the spelling of ‘cessation’!).
simonhlilly 