Ultimately, what seems to matter most is what matters least.
We all appear destined for that which most eludes us. Those things which
come easily do not bring with them much satisfaction.
Words are not words anymore. Neither are they weapons.
What are words? Object lessons. Pirouettes on a tilted stage. Seed pods for the next forest.
Houses built without walls or location.
Are words the temporary band-aid for the meta-temporal wounds?
We cascade along the sidewalk and manage to meet up for a drink.
Then, a stranger starts screaming and threatening violence and we have
seconds to decide whether to stay or go.
The evening finishes up next to an empty swimming pool where crickets have drowned in the puddles left behind.
Words are the weeping silence of forgotten promises.
What are words?
Clogged plumbing in the darkness of the desert.
Rained-out concerts behind the violet curtain.
Cracked teeth underneath new cars we have collected.
Words kill the empire but leave the weapons.
Another window pane shatters on the subway to hell.
Edward Grayson’s most recent book is titled, “Why the Not?”.
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