Rhythms Return

God knows I’ve tried; euphemistically
of course – I use the phrase to float or
founder in your chauvinism

I’ve read and listened to the words
for resonance that died; confused
amid a plethora’s similitude

rococo egos rhyme pedantic space
between oases blank of faith like signs
prescribe prosaic desert’s empathy

that doesn’t say transcendent effort
spared me moving mountains
of ingrained mendacity

no silent sacrifice brings back salinity
within the ocean’s tears – nor I believe
is wasted needlessly

where seeds are sown by brash
and taciturn alike is where the lushly
resonant entanglement will grow

a chain of life sojourns in moments
where dry retching chokes in mordant
fear of rhythm’s sweet return
© 31 May 2010, I. D. Carswell