, , ,

There is a voice that

comes from silence and then

the few who have died in all of

eternity, know that they have a

voice.  The sounds of citizens, the world as a

cube, tricked into the life of nightness.

“We are the full men, found

stuffed with straws of gold.

We are sunken, rung

deep in bells untolled.”

How does life begin?  Not

with a sound, but with a