Thought Gate

July 18, 2011

Mouths in glass jars cannot be free.
They speak but without words. They kiss
and smile, they face the anointed wall,
they speak of brick and cinder block
beneath the plaster walls, they speak
of veins in my eyes and in yours…
but then they escape through the Thought Gate.

Do words have words inside that rein them in? Perhaps
it is I who is inside the Thought Gate, for I bring
to earth each day the earth our capillary states
have stolen. It is so pale, this earth, translucent,
and perhaps I alone can see it.
I peer into the jar.
I plant philosophy in the jar.
I am inside the Thought Gate.
I hide the jar in the folds of the earth.

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