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.