IF i shall never hear a note again
what of my vision — a forest calls
but no sound/ i, the failure, of
all that is nature and of words.
so must my mouth SCREAM
but my head hears not [even the
blacksmith striking his anvil]
so i am the deaf poet
that shall never hear my own words\
locked inside a cedar box for all
seasons.
:: 07.24.2020 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 