She is looking for the mumbled word
Slit from the womb of voice
Speck of thought, wearing the clothes of thought
Shedding the garments of voice
While the body is stretched through time
And becomes the instrument of voice
Taken away from us
And you ask from the other room
“What did you say?”
Voices like tumbled stones
Still, they talk on
Grasping, twisting, the
Way of love is spoken
That men swallow their tongues
Swollen, hampered by speech
Seeking the other, but hiding, surprised,
This defense of aging men
Not much to say?
Make a friend of silence
Speak the sound
Say the word
This may be God
A sound of wind on this hill
In the dark upland
Say it, say this
The word without weight
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