A Poem Wrote On the Back of a Mind
There must be a wall there,
electric eels scribble upon it,
and rabid are the holes
that go deep into words.
Those words wrote themselves,
they must have climbed over the wall
leaving off-white snail smears
travelling at light speed.
I am done speaking of it,
of this writing
that demands to be dug into silence,
at least
until and when
that next inexplicable moment
learns to speak for itself.
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