12/30/12

the quiet silence
that echoes through
the hollow synapses/
axons that stare
and whisper to/at
each other
is as thick as glass

that is our sheltered
silence
just whistling nureons,
neon colors like
the powdery air
during Holi
(Festival of Colors)
people laughing,
smiling in the narrow
streets,
covered in pretty sand,
the cobblestone underfoot
a sturdy tortoise-shell.

nureons with no
letters to send or
emergencies to discuss

doves,
these days;
so hard to find.