Inadequate Words

Let me depart This play with words, And enter Sounds of nothing. An earthen urn Echoes river music, Flows with the current, To the inevitable dialectic Of whirlpool sounds. Let the river churn my blood, Permeate through osmotic skin, Until bed sheets lie crumpled, Keyboards are shattered. In the autumn of night A white page stares at me, I beat my breasts Like an agitated gorilla Ululating his mating call. Hillsides reverberate With urgent madness, That is the message In it all.