There is a bitterness that leaves the mouth sweet…that turns a song into a calling.
There is a seeing beyond discovery, where deep silence is only entered into lyrically.
Each night, the sky becomes a desert of stars, yet each sojourn begins at the moon.
A child only learns to talk when it has swallowed enough dust to begin its own dying; until then, it only visits here when lost in its dreamworld.
Somewhere there is a viper who kills nothing. He is made of bronze and is traded amongst religions.
A wise man left the village, heading for the mountain saying he only wanted to forget all oaths.
The body breathes innately, easily; it is difficult to teach the mind how to breathe.
Between my words there is a voice that travels through archaic languages and enters my throat as a broken master fallen from the monastery, living out a vow of silence.
Only by the stories we do not quite understand are we carried through darkness into morning.
Lawrence William Berggoetz has had poetry published in journals such as The Bitter Oleander, Futures Trading, Blue Heron, Moria, and Skidrow Penthouse. A graduate of Purdue University, he is the author of Under One Sun, and he lives in Dallas.
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