from The Woman in an Imaginary Painting: It comes through…

by on March 13, 2021 :: 0 comments

It comes through me,
she says. Like light.
As if I am

a cup waiting
on the table.
As if emptiness

attracts. As if
stillness rings like
a bell, the sound

singing its way,
and silence asks
wisdom for more.

editors note:

Sound from silence like color from white. (We welcome Tom to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

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