These palms and crows
Can barely exist
Without this mist
The ink that covers
What they are
Entire
As I
Without their voice
And lazy sway
Am fully reduced
To silence
Still
We never know
Each other
Not even as theory
How can this cry
Be answered
If there is
An answer?
Words fall right
Back down to earth
The moment
They are airborne
To name some tomb
That may in fact
Be truthful
But it is not caused
By truth
The falling out of heaven
May be conveyed
In words
But it was never words
That caused
The fall
However implicated they were
Such is the nature
Of evidence
Suppositions riven from
The palimpsest
Are free as the aforementioned crows
To extemporize
The temporality
To philosophize
As if the word was something
To be cracked
Not fled from
In horror
