4. The Words Of Silence (Myshkin, 2020) · quatrains

The poetry in me, By strange coincidence, Is gushing hungrily And busting through the fence. I fucked around with God And opened up a link. I checked and checked for fraud. What’s real is—I don’t think! My life is not my own And neither are these words Through stillness I am shown The winding path towards. The morning sun came up East of my oak tree bench; The ocean fog did drop A Western, gas-filled trench. God speaks to me through birds Performs Four Thirty-Three I dam up my own words To hear His symphony. With Spirit at my back And Stillness in my heart I’m quaking to attack— A Warrior of Art.