Listening to Cicadas, I See Charlottesville (Ghazal)
Shedding one coat, you live in the red, apart
from the rest. Never together, forever apart.
In this sun-drenched field, the cracks drill deeper,
wider, dribbling soil and small lives, expanding, apart.
What falls truer than any words released from this man?
Once divided, never again to touch, always apart.
The electric shrill fluctuates pitch, in unison. Hundreds
of tymbals, shredding dusk, now together, then apart.
You narrow your eye to a slit, but still see the entire
spectrum. Wing clicks, stridulation. Whole yet apart.
Shearing syllables, I learn the language of half-truth.
What is my name? I reach for that fragment. It falls apart.
O at the Edges 
Simply beautiful – words and voice! Especially love the last line, Bob!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Lynne. The form seemed appropriate to my mood at the time.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah yes – those moods we find ourselves in! So much to ponder here, given your nod to Charlottesville in the title….
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great reading, and sound track. Thought-provoking.
“Shearing syllables, I learn the language of half-truth” … leaves me wondering if I shear syllables through habit, if I hear what I want to hear even if it’s only half-truth, if some of the things I “hear” are but half-truth reinforcement of fears that defy speaking …
LikeLiked by 1 person
I live in fear of these self-inflicted half-truths, or of hearing only the halves I wish to hear. This leads me to ask questions…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love it
Just exploring Ghazals after reading about the life of poet John Thompson, born a street away – he thought in ghazals! Amazing ghost in the machine form without form that you’ve captured so well.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. Ghazals seemed suited to the way I think and feel – little bursting fragments of agony and delight, of love and fear, and often without grounding.
LikeLike
Good news Robert… I heard a tune in your words,
I have a bird to whistle
From yonder distant lands
The postie blew his whistle too
Just in time, to fly the skies
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wonderful, Ivor! I’m glad the whistle reached you!
LikeLike
So beautiful Bob
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much!
LikeLike