sensing

Sending Circle

If I move
then this should
not exist

I am writing
because because
never existed

I am angry
I am ecstatic
I am so many words;
yet what remains is
opposite to all
pronunciations

I am a feather
that draws in water
but leaves no
ripple behind
its art

I am existing
to experience
the rush of disappearing

to crash into existence
the roaring vehicle
of silence

 

Poems

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