Reading

Reading


Mysteriously the empty synapse speaks
From a grand stagnation
As the eyes weave in fluid directions
Passing the electric baton
Faster than digital computing
Straight to central intelligence.

These little cryptic concepts
Manipulated markings of memory
Deeply beneath sculpted rows
Of communicative structure;
The improvising perfectionist sweeps
Unnecessary meaning for clarity.

A message lurches in hindsight
By a watcher of cleanliness
Understanding hits hard
From the dead looking page
No music heard outside
But inside a picture sings to the brain.