world of unsaid things

a phone’s dead silence
betrayed by the counting clock on its screen
(transmuted)
the void inverted into undifferentiated substance
of an electric viscosity.

a densely tinted window
looks onto the world of unsaid things
yet the dim and diffuse forms moving beyond
rattle the murky glass in its frame
reaching through those vibrations
to stir
and pluck
their powers of touch seeming stronger
for all their diaphanous obscurity.

the wind there only inhales
passing over interminably lit fuses attached to nothing
and spitting sparks into the silence.

words gather in curbed drifts
withered leaves whose desiccate rustlings
echo in the chambers of my heart.