by G. E. Schwartz
A sky-blue world in the dark of outerness May find no echo but emits squeakings and Dots (human). Would that these might transmute, Become a diapason to the ear of some vigil-keeper On some body far away out there but like enough Our earth’s body–or to an unsuspected silence. Although no transience lingers, may all the myriad Noises of our everyday doings never, may they Never give us way out there, tell to a universe Who we are. No normal sounds can travel on Beyond our canopy of sky. Or at least let us Tune these together a little first!
G. E. Schwartz is the author of several collections of poetry, including Only Others Are (Legible Press), World (Furniture Press), Thinking In Tongues (Hanks loose Gravel Press), Murmurations (Foothills Publishing), and The Very Light We Reach For (Legible Press), and he lives and writes from Upstate, New York, in the United States.