tables and tongues

poetry March 18, 2011

lost is the word that springs to mind
over bodies and lakes filled with smiles
fields filled with camaraderie.
lost in the annals of time
what was once right before our eyes
and lost behind the hands of others.
punches thrown in vain
air sucked into lungs
and tongues cut by throats
that feel foreign.
connections fragile now broken
by delivery women
birthing messengers of bad tidings
waves of non-refundable utterances.
well, fuck you too
slips through lenses and irises
and witch noses twinkle bewitched understandings
of wands and wantings.
gone is the touch
of non-separation, breaks.
aches fill pens
and ink stops flowing.
i shake, i shake, i shake cartridges
and realize that there’s nothing to print
no words typed
or qwerty questions answered.
nothing is wanted anymore
only silence.
the future has branched off
and wooden tables are now cadavers
of aborted endeavors of living
harmoniously in the brush.
forests now lie
as single trees live on without them.
the rest has been found wanting.