Twists of Tongue


What’s this?
Words on paper meant
to evoke song?
Or soul?
Lyrics seldom come this way
But when they do,
Watch out!
White Thistle Garden
Who knew
those were coming
when they made their
surprise entrance
Entrance me with your
twists of tongue
Longing for the drum
Play of pen and paper
Ink running river
From some dark
mysterious well
Black as the soul of
night sky
Shivering dark
Quivering pen
Hungry heart
Grasping for hope
Like a babe in arms

Written in the southern New Mexico desert


Share This

Translate »