Quiescence,
I can hear,
At this moment
As concretely
As
A cool cyan,
A wavering or a
Humming sound?
A scrap of
Dog-eared newspaper,
Falls off my desk
Yellowed,
Somewhat tattered
Clatters upon
The paint-stained
Woolen carpet-
A draft,
Enters the living room
Slyly and unobtrusively
Through the open crack
Of the
Balcony door.
I shudder.
I can envision
An airplane coming to carry
me to
Eternity?
There could be…
The sky, mauve, is
Overshadowed and (or?)
Blanketed by dark, early morning fog.
The air- frigid though
Sultry- almost?
The lamp adjacent to my desk,
The couch,
The brocade printed
Antiqued chair,
And all of the furniture-
Outside, the trees, and skyscrapers
Stand still as
Crags, heavy, implanted…
The only thing that is in
Motion are my
Hands on this keyboard,
And the silent voices
Conversing in
My head?


Claudia Krizay(schizoclaud)