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Communication
by Duane Locke
Radiant spirits circle
Around and around inside our words
And collide.
From the crash
Specks of crippled sounds
Hobble towards others' ears.
The speaker puts plugs up his ears
So he will not hear the pain
Of his wounded words.
Crows
by Duane Locke
I heard the call of the crows,
Threw my shoes into the yuccas,
So I could feel the warm sand on my bare skin.
My feet sunken into sand,
Felt the language of the underground streams' dark waters.
I found new words,
Words that came from the water's dark hands caressing my ankles.
I spoke truth for the first time.
Duane Locke, Ph.D. in Renaissance literature, lives in Tampa, Florida. He has published over 2,000 poems in over 500 print magazines such as
APR, Nation, Literary Review, Black Moon, and Bitter Oleander. He has written 14 books, the latest one being a book of poems, Watching
Wisteria (Small Press Distributors).
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