After Words

After whirls listen
whale hush comes
the cat jigs the bat
for your cares ward
off dangerous asks.

For love these old letters
wild bedraggled wag around
nest of gnarled grunts
mosses bones hair vines.

The old alphabetical guard
strains in place at attention
runes assigned ward beds
grand command inspection.

Sparse words heal
after wounds foraged
forward in a land
of odd angles
accentuated by red pencils.

Winds mean about
we know not what
if in the end this
is an end or a start.

“It’s like a new
pair of ears,”
after words wishes
remains unspoken.

6 Comments Add yours

  1. bristlehound says:

    “for your cares ward off dangerous asks”

    A challenge to our philanthropic bent?
    B

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Joe Linker says:

      More paradox or contradiction making up the current argument afloat (or sinking, as the case may be). There are dangerous tasks one may be tasked with, such as “to write dangerously” (Joyce). Someone flew off with the ‘t’ leaving the question. Or, like when kids ‘dare’ another. “Dares go first.” Something about tolerance levels for danger. But what is danger if we are not afraid?

      Like

      1. bristlehound says:

        Danger may well be controlled and quite possibly not actually exist consciously.
        It may be one of those inherent qualities also and, in some, surface only if and where it saves injury or life.
        A “Dangerous ask” whilst only a perception may still be construed under the influence of chemical bodily reactions. Consequently, caring may well be for self preservation.
        Stranded on an island with only humans about, would we resort to cannibalism to survive even though our conscious mind would abhor such?

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Joe Linker says:

          Wow, B! Nothing like the $60 million dollar question. Sounds like just a matter of time on that island. Last one standing is a selfie. … I’ve been asked on occasion to do something dangerous. It’s usually been because someone cared about something, even if I did not.

          Liked by 1 person

  2. I tend to tune into that whale hush where the bedraggled letters become strange music, and sometimes poetry – like the sparse words of your poem.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Joe Linker says:

      so many poems, yet so little poetry, as sound is rarely music (in spite of what John Cage said). one must live in the whale hush a long time to hear the sounds become poetry. Of course there are many different kinds of poems, and forests of different poet trees.

      Like

Leave a Note.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s