Deafening Silence

Is it still considered poetry

if you don’t have a degree

and you can’t see a reason

to edit

even if you know

it could use a fine-tooth



what if I say pace here

or paz

but know it might sound better

with salaam

or shalom?

After the pen leaves the paper

I don’t have an eraser

and it feels like I’m cheating

on my soul

if I start to slash x marks

through my chicken scratches,

and after the egg hatches

it’s a chicken

there’s no going back

I can’t turn it into a duck

it was destined to be a chicken

and it’s never going to be a goose

or an ostrich

or an emu,

or a quail

or a pheasant,

it’s a chicken.

It’s like a present from somewhere

deep in my subconscious

and it would be unconscionable

to kill the chicken

if that is in fact what it is

same if it’s a duck

or a quail

or an emu

or an ostrich

or a goose

or even a turtle

or a crocodile.

If you have to edit

in order to be a real poet

well, shit

I guess I’m just a crazy guy

trying to stay sane enough to get by

by writing things down on paper

to try making sense

of such senseless violence

and trying to understand

all the deafening silence…

and maybe I can’t edit out

one single word

because they all represent

the voices never heard,

and these words are stand-ins

for the words of the real poets of the world

who were slaughtered

by weapons engineered

by young men and women

educated at the very same universities

from which you got your MFA.

Do you really have nothing to say?





About soitgoes1984

I live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean in the Hawaiian Kingdom which is currently illegally occupied by the American government. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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