Mouthing.

Have you any idea what it is
to live in a world where there
is only one voice,
and one sound,
and one soul.

Do you?

See I stand here in solitude upon solitude all
opening
out into a great series of mistakes, wonders
worries,
sickening swirls and
thoughts inside one another
all carved and moving,
as a Chinese, ivory ball,
from one piece of reality

Its core is inside me.
Nobody sees it.
Nobody SEES it.

Somebody seize it.

This core is sound in a world
of liquid motion
It is the rock in the pool, but see,
I am mute. I am as good as mute.
But I have hands.

But I could ram my fingers into the mouths of idols
and pull at their teeth
and tug at their tongue
and wrench them open like a box,
And into them I could shout:
Everything!
And into them I could scream the world.

Like a breath like a breeze like a bubble of brazen,
broken iconoclasm I could
scream the world open and shatter it bright to motion,
lungs.
Lungs, throat, tongue - tip!
And dead on the lip.

I could roar into ten mouths,
they a hundred,
and then a thousand,
into ten thousand -
and the world will be shouting.
The world will be shouting!

It will not be my name.
it will be as the beaks of parrot chicks gawping
gaping open and back out to life.
it will be nothing.
Quiet.

and still
and still,
and still.