The way the current unearths
Words we failed,
To hear buried
Beneath bygone pebble
And the way the sea fails
Out the rolling of
Paper into passing messages.
It sounded like montar un pollo,
This sonically rolled shout,
But the sand settled around my heels,
Or had it been tomaten auf den augen haben
Though the sun had not yet begun to set,
The sky colored in its reflection
Of all we tried to hide in transit, rolling in.
It might have sounded as buscarle la quinta pata al gato
But there are too many
Things that have left me searching
For a new sense
And where did this notion of identity
Arise that it is to be known,
At any given time
The resounding dies irae before
The cap may have given
Away the nothingness of my subsequent confusion
The way trying to understand
Is as foolish as trying to share
The way loving is no less
Irrational than giving what you love away
Echoes of waves pass,
And I keep
My jar sealed for fear the sound
Will be lost--
Existence that cannot be known
But I give it to you anyway.
Can you hear through the glass?
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