The wind calls out your name.
I remember when I would sing too.

But I also remember that
You'd tell me to listen to what the names meant.
Make sure I wouldn't only be in it for the tune.

With that, my voice closed up,
Shut itself within my throat
And locked the door.
I resolved to praise with my eyes-

My pupils riddled with scratches like an overplayed vinyl

Stuck on repeat, repeat, repeat
Until one would get sick
Of the words and cease to
Understand them.

I'd strain desperately to look
For words that my eyes
Wouldn't let
Slip
Wouldn't let
Skip
Wouldn't keep forgetting,
Wouldn't get tired of.

I searched book after book,
Article after article,
Poem after poem,
Deconstructed story after story,
Dissected psalm after psalm.

When words failed,
I turned to images:

Gaudy images,
Marvelous images,
Sensual images,
Shocking images,
Grotesque images,
Pretty images,
All sorts of images.

I traded memories for pictures,
Most of which have already rot.

When images failed,
I closed my eyes
And started to listen.