In the gaze of the other

"My mistress' eyes are nothing…"

Chatter in the Wind

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Like fake windup teeth, they chatter on like a cheap gag

hackers, spammers and hangers on, all sapping space

saved for clarity; no clue, they’re all ego, needy strokes,

recognition, checking in, checking on and confirmation

that still, yes, I do exist; your real is genuine connection,

beat loneliness and worthlessness, valueless monied air.

Make room, clear the questions like “What’s for dinner?”

and “Will this be on the test? and “Why?” ask 3 year olds 

only to make conversation, believing sounds substantive:

tone of voice, letters on leaves, form-words, voices heard,

prayers moaned, pledges recited, dreams told, signs read,

memes scrolled, billboard philosophy, sext-up proposals, 

cyber poke, lol jokes, ping backs, whistle blows, doorknock, 

chicken scratch, empty glances on empty screens beckoned

by meaningless noises and jibberish symbols to break down,

take chances, reach in and virtually blow long-wound spew.   

And the whistles moaning the cracked window seals sound

chatter in storm-whisking trees felled by dull, dry tongues.

 
credit: likeclockwork.biz

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