This poem was originally published in April, 2007, in the Spring/Summer 2007 print edition of Zeek. Our print edition features original articles, essays, poems, and art, much of which never makes it to the online edition. To subscribe, visit www.zeek.net/buy
Because only our bodies were inclined to speak, other talk was cruel, incidental.
As if the wrong station got on the air after hours glued to one vital conversation,
then static, a frantic twist of the dial to locate the wave again. When we sang in ecstatic silence
skin was liquid, walls concave, sonorous. Till the world broke in
like a weapon striking, blood on the hands, soil. So filled with our lustful hush I couldn’t
contain it. And because we couldn’t stop, there was always music or mourning, never a grace note between.
When I originally commented I clicked the -Notify me when new surveys are added- checkbox and after this every time a comment is added I recieve four emails using the same comment. Could there be in whatever way you may eliminate me from that service? Thanks!
Dead pent subject material , Really enjoyed looking at .
I love the efforts you have put in this, appreciate it for all the great articles .
Hi, Can I download your own image and make use of that on my weblog?
Youre so cool! I dont suppose Ive read anything in this way just before. So nice to get somebody by original thoughts on this subject. realy appreciation for beginning this up. this website is one thing that is needed online, someone after some originality. helpful project for bringing new stuff towards the web!