I’ve sought the words of love
the same way the words of hate have sought me
I’ve traipsed through this sleepless
my ears prickled in the air,
like a dog’s,
but no one speaks.
It’s song is silent, it only touches places you can’t.
Here, in these streets paved with gold,
nothing is familiar:
that is the inexhaustible miracle of
My voice informed for longing
speaks out into the abyss.
And through the city streets
dead of traffic and the scraping of dragged footsteps;
breathless and leafless, speaks back,
it’s silence as drawn out as a blade,
cutting and sewing,
splicing and growing,
I sit on the curb,
my sighs broken like the pavement,
Now I listen.
Now I listen