edward-vanhooseWhisper

Dutch

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Girl next doorI only caught a passing moment of their conversation, but the dyed redhead, bowed black face hidden behind her tresses, clearly remarked, I'm part Irish. That's white. while the boy beside her captured her every movement with sarcastic circular motions of his imaginary camera, and something in the taste of the air took me back to the iciness of the cell. / Long after the guard clanged the iron door shut, letting the reverberations fade into the silence of small spaces so evident in the 10x6 enclosed room, I heard her. In truth, recollection deceives me in associating my first awareness of her with an impossible remembrance: a womanly scent flowing on a non-existent gust between her cell and mine. But no, it was definitely the distinct, distant quality in her voice as she softly called Who's there? that caused me to press my ear tightly against cold iron in eager anticipation. Hello was all I mustered. She responded in relieved tones with tales of abuse, pimps and prostitution, all mixed with crack bumps measured in metricities that would have made her high school math teacher proud. For hours her voice echoed through the halls of the jail, pausing only for an occasional guttural response Uh-huh or, Uh-uh before continuing her tragic, comforting tale. / Eventually day broke and I left the cell-- left the girl locked away, nameless, out of sight. And, I would have forgotten. I would have never searched every face wondering: if I close my eyes and listen, would the voice that still echoes in my head present itself in a stranger's features?

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Cincinnati ChildFor years / the square inner courtyard, / surrounded by sky-reaching apartment complexes,

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QuarrelWhen peace leaves, ever setting as winter / he bitterly tosses all chance beneath / her sun, howling madly while he pins her

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NeverFull-voiced, thunderous / the voice of truth whispers / There was never nothing

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NullificationThese words are not for reading. / Not for singing, not for shouting. / Not for saying, not for whispering.

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BreathlessBy chance we sat close that night as the light / faded, leaving that just-before-rain spirit / pervading the air with nature's answer

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DenialThe **** crowed once… / He enters my store / nervously, cautiously examining

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BlockHow many words / Need we have as mortar / Binding us to descriptions of passion?

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Dear readerI must apologize / dear reader / for addressing you so

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Core SpeakI woke / Crouched behind the cozy recliner / Upon which Sherry soundlessly slept--

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