mute — from Dutch smelten to melt, make fluid


My words are glass and mirrors in your presence.


Might they fall in love — with not speaking?

Hiding words away

in desks

under chairs

behind doors

in classrooms

until they are broken?


Raw words



Drip, bloody

through cupped hands.


And boundaries?

Mine are air and mist


You assume

And inhabit them

Without permission

Set up your structures



I speak

breaking up like radio interference

into white noise.





IMAGE  Towards the left of the image is the lower half of an electricity pylon with its metal geometrical structure appearing through a pale grey mist. There is a fence in front of the lower part. In the distance behind this, partly obscured by mist, are some bare trees and another pylon with three equally spaced cables attached along the side of its top section, stretching out to the top right edge of the image.


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