Language Wants Them


When at night, in dimness, I catch glimpse

of inner radiance,

I think: how long

can I contain it until it convulses

out of me?

Stay stable and unmoved,

before it figures me out,

and out it goes?


How long, and how well, will I continue

to do things in such and such a way until

It exposes these things as empty:

fragile in structure and devoid of content?

How long before all leave and I find myself

having already been left, before knowing

the meaning of company?


Will I hold it together, elbows on desk,

ethics at hand, principles overhead,

solid earth below?

Will something outside of it erupt

before it does? Or

will there never be a space for it

other than this?


It will stay, as I do, unknown to others

even as a prospect.

Known to me as the only venture–

which I succeed in buffing down

to a pebble.

For men of wood,

women of glass.


One comment on “Language Wants Them

  1. Trent Lewin says:

    Quite like that. Awesome ending.

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