[Avant-Garde Effects]

[Poem]
Sitting on steps, the topmost
There's a pasture before me
Where the brief shadows of small trees are plain to see at 2 a.m
Where the moon lights the back of a head
Bowed in respect of all that is
I'm not sure I want to talk anymore
Maybe there is something I could say a poet would feel
Maybe there's no need
A true poet already sits beside me
Head bowed to the moonlight
I am at once alone and inside everything
Even in the den of the world there is a silence that sings of reverence
There is a space that cannot be described
In that space words are noise:
Substantiated evidence of distraction, a step behind now
An understandable preoccupation of the mind's attempt at solving a mystery
So I am not sure if I want to talk anymore
Some days my heart is heavier than I knew I could bear
Some days it floats beyond gravity's reach
And words are heavy
To use them lets loose an anchor that only proves the science of causality
I know these things
Though the knowing mostly serves as a reminder of an absence
Maybe only momentary, or
Until the moon shines once more on a poet's bowed head
So I am not sure I want (much) to talk
There is no sayable clarity
No translation in large print
There is only this moment
And I live inside it alone
But look upon the world with eyes that say what can't be said
[Avant-Garde Effects]