Love Came to Town
Silence has a secret lover who climbs over the garden wall at midnight and his name is Form! (and always with an exclamation mark!)
Sometimes I think, “I’ll give up words.” But then Silence comes again, with her Love of a Love Song, and I remember the day appearance became a bedroom and I became a bride.
Sometimes I decide, “Enough of words! No more.” But then she whispers in my ear that language of sunlight and longing. She entices, she cajoles, she seduces with syntax, illogical pronouns and light.
She sighs, “Silence is an ocean. But Love, Love is a river flowing out in bright language. Silence is a Deep, my sweet friend, but Love is the flood plain of appearing.”
Sometimes Silence opens the bedside drawer and takes out old love letters and, remembering the first time love came to town, opens herself into herself and travels the geography of language. What can I do then, but write?
Form, all flesh of light and tousled hair, all bluster and bright of something-nothing, love is seduced by Silence, resolves again in her nothing-something love, falls silent. And so it is ...
... was, will be this joy. Sometimes I think, “I’ll give up words.” But then she comes, again, with her love of a love song, and I remember the day appearance became a bedroom and …
I became a bride. - t.k.