Unravelling the Quilt
That driving force
that is ink for the well,
this compulsion to compel,
to tell a thing
until it rings in the brain.
Again and again
we sew a quilted cloth,
construe it thread by thread
until what is said
becomes a scaffold
to hang words upon.
A placeless place
where night seeing bats
seek out the heat of
hidden meanings.
There within an open ended parable
both poet and reader
decipher and construct anew
to make a sense, or a reasoned view
of the unintelligible.
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