Poems

Aural

Gritty frost from
the radio speaker
in the car's
nomadic shadows:
a swamp of sounds
in which hearing's
needle can
barely move.
Out of nowhere,
a torch singer
slices through Wittgenstein
with the cutlery
of cante jondo...
How does she do it? -
unstitch, unseam
language itself,
make the world flow and
if that wasn't enough
hit the twin peaks
of grace and tragedy?
The car
anointed with music
slips into the night.

Share this poem

view comments

Comments (4)

Ignacio

I really like this poem.Amazing . Continue

Tapangia Richardson

so sensative

 

Juliet Parker

Very good, reminds me of a free-verse poem.  Continue to write!

Hayley Menzies

I Liked It How U Explained It And How U Used Some Spanish This Will Help With My Topic!!!!

Leave a comment