The image of silence
is a broken heart.
Melodies of silence, mournful,
are not consoled even by energies
of drums.

And silence lingers
beneath the ripping soles of a
dancing crowd;
a breath of riot hovers above
a select ring of gluttonous clouds.

Beyond are totems of death
wearily hung toward the tunnel
of muted silence
with the chilled, fast-fading processes of
spot-language and the image of it.