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Wednesday, March 6, 2013

The Voice


Somewhere between
the unheard beep
of a bat
and the low rumble
of the elephant's roll call
the human voice
plays through the silence
of dictionaries
or sitting at desks
in the habitats
of darkness
dreams tossing words
through oblivion

Across the sea by cable
or the alleys of the old
the voices betray
everything we are
though strange
to the rest of our companions
we walk with
yet the dog may know
the meaning through repetition
the chimp by sign and ear

But what does the crow
across the creek
think of this yell
to leave my sleep undisturbed
by the racket so many create

Whatever they say to each other
I'm damn mad
and by their continued bird rants
I'm diminished
to the level of stupid humanity
who can't even fly
without some idiot's contraption
strapped to my back
as it sputters and spews
a smell the ass of a crow
could never fart

So off they fly
in a laugh
at me who thinks
all the world is mine
as I stand on a balcony
to squeak at crows
as the resplendent unseen letters
of this unknown language
explode from my mouth
upon their bothered conversation



Copyright © 2013 by Barry G. Wick All rights reserved.

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