Poetry?
Word that sounds
And word that reads
Friend and foe
In the journey that leads
Sonic and syllable
The pupil and the lid
To see
With more than the eye
Blinking intervals
Of stops and silence
The movement of sound
The movement of meaning
Ruptures, hidden pauses
In seeming concurrence
And transgressive isolation.
Towards the pounding heart
And the churning soul.
What do you see?
— Ayalavan
