Monday, December 17, 2007

After Your Voice

Your voice is like a telephone ringing in a room with all the doors taken off and windows broken. I am sitting cross-legged and bare-arsed in its centre and it fills me like a sound; which is what it is, your voice, a sound. It is yours and my senses are sharpened by it. Your words fall like small stones and I want to catch every one of them, I would keep them all in my pockets, if I had pockets, always before your voice I am naked and I can’t keep my own words let alone yours. Which aren’t really like stones except that they are round and smooth and perfectly formed by something outside them, or from rubbing against each other. All my answers are too small for your questions, they fall through the comfort of your sounds to land beside me on the hardwood floor in a crack of sun which shows how dusty they are and the sound of your voice blows them away. Then this room which barely exists and contains nothing empties itself again. After your voice stops ringing.

5 comments:

Adam Stuart said...

How beautifully you take simple things of life and breathe such great life into them

Amanda Joy said...

Adam! great to see you in here! thank you for your beautiful comment.. same back at you!

A.Joy
x

Anonymous said...

I would know that voice anywhere...it is distinctive. You have increadible talent A.J.
Kit Carson

Larry Kuechlin said...

I will never write anything this beautiful. Ever.

If a poem is measured on the impact that it has had, then poem stands alone.

your

Larry Kuechlin xo

Liliya Mazur said...

I love this :)