<james' "letter to a mute">
2004-08-09.7:04 p.m.
Letter to a Mute Thomas James If I could reach you now, in any way At all, I would say this to you: This afternoon I walked into a thicket Of gold flowers that had no idea What they were after. They couldn't hear a thing. I walked among a millon small, deaf ears Breaking their gold into the afternoon. I think they were like you, golden, golden, Unable to express a single thing. I walked among them, thinking of you, Thinking of what it would be like To be completely solitary. Once I was alone like that. All the field was humming, brimming With some brazen kind of song, and I Thought that somehow I could disappear Into the empty hall of your right ear, Wandering through the slender bones of you. But I knew that I could never let you know That it is late summer here, that I Can hear the crickets every evening Hollowing out the darkness at my window, That you have vanished into a dark tunnel Where I have tried to reach you with my mouth Till my mouth ran gold, spilling over everything. Tonight I looked into your face, tenderly, Tenderly, but I can never find you there. I can only touch your quiet lips. If I could stick my pen into your tongue, Making it run with gold, making It speak entirely to me, letting the truth Slide out of it, I could not be alone. I wouldn't even touch you, for I know How you are locked away from me forever. Tonight I go out looking for you everywhere As the moon slips out, a slender petal Offering all its gold to me for nothing.
back /& forth /& frosting
names are often sad