by Abner Dormiendo
What we needed is this: the space
between the inhale and the exhale;
that that separates the words from
the phrases, the sound from the text.
Words are oceans: unfathomable, full.
Syntax, like shoreline, limits, empties.
The boundaries of language:
too much meaning means drowning.
Intervals mean resurfacing;
silence means air. Sand
rearrange in grains, what we call
the gap between implications.
What I learned about words
leads to this: the sea
and the essence of silence,
that in between the crashing tides
the sea shuts its mouth for recovery.
Give the words room for breathing;
even waves fold after every unfolding.