Dr. Frankenstein

An odd silence takes hold of me
Because it lays with
Hands upon the throat,
Its own,
Dry and lacking
Despite the sound of soft
Rain dripping outside my window
along with the seismic smoke of civilization
That has become nowhere

Oh how we work to fill the days
But today, the night,
stammers through the hand of
someone who wants to create a body
Of wor(k/d)
Under the hope of resurrection

Plato’s anxiety

Image result for platos academy
Plato’s academy by Raphael

I have been waking up
and trying to fine tune the breath
in the belly
before the instrument goes out to play
on office desks
and impostor-ed classrooms.
They tell you
they tell you wrong,
the spirit does not
reside in the shell of the language,
it has to be summoned
in the body
and its word.
I try and breathe
to summon myself.