Saturday, January 22, 2011

Ink Cloud

When I went searching,
I didn't go looking.

I listened with ears
pointed, out-stretched,
past my head,
and waited
for a face to emerge
in the static silence

when I wasn't looking
for a face at all.

In the middle of my penning
I heard some semblance of form
and could not escape it.
My mind said, "that is becoming a face,"
And to reproduce it again would be my fate.

Now it stares at me,
and I try to turn off my ears,
to see what it is showing me.

While it peers through the gaps
of my chaotic dis-equilibrium,
I would know not its form
had I not gazed and guessed at the clouds before.

1 comment:

  1. Rob, thank you for visiting my blog. Great Poem, I love that your use of words creates such a strong sense of mystery! You are a wonderful poet! Well done!
    Short Poems