a poem

builds a silent place out of words

 

that becomes

out of common room

sound a funnel

for the poem

a silent place where no things knock about

all things become

single sounds like a japanese bell

like "a port in air"

 

travel there

to an inner ear

unbruise the world

like new fruit

carefully packed and shipped

in clouds

 

a poem builds a silent place

where a voice

might say a song

for a sleepy kid

a bored kid

a single kid

with nothing much to do

right now

 

let the poem become

some fine powder

against the ache

of an ordinary day

 

11.8.96

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