Three steps to Pentecost

Silence intimidates

breaks complacence

with inconsolable soundless shrieks

that terrorise

strip back courage to a foetal vulnerability.





the wind disturbs

then tongues burn with words

that turn

senselessness to meaning.



The fire licks

the tongue trips

over unfamiliar formulations

of syllables

that make a sentence with words

that sound absurd

except to those who hear their own parlance. 



The sense of words

Not written anything for a while and felt the need to put something down yesterday. So I offer some pretension derived from a discussion over Derrida. 



What words accumulate

waiting the furrowed attention of a reader;

their stasis –

a question.


How long must we live in presence and absence?

Will we never be realised,

fully known;

are we always to be deferred and left reserved?


Such is our sentence.

Read, un-read, forgotten.