I’m flat on my back

Staring at the stillness of the ceiling fan

Listening to the noise get greater and greater

Feeling the silence envelop me

This is prayer of the purest sort

This raw exposure below 3 incandescent bulbs

Their light speaks vacant emptiness

Except “close your eyes and feel the nothing.”

I don’t want to.

I want this anger within me

To blow out of my chest

Spill it’s lava contents all over the bed

All over the floor

Slowly oozing out the door

New lands appear

New islands

Steam is still rising

In the cool of the moisture

It’s been so long

It’s been so long

Finally a truly christening song

Has been born from this pen

We always question what makes the men

We always answer it is the wind

The whispers of the lovely women on the sidewalk

I sense the teacher has picked up her chalk

I might need to be silent for this part of the lesson

I see green 

Life sprouting in the rock



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