In the echo of your voice, there's a song,
A rhythm that tells you you've been strong.
Though it may seem the world is vast and wide,
Your words still ripple with the tide.

Even in silence, there's a space to grow,
A place where your light begins to glow.
The emptiness that seems to stretch and roam,
Is simply the echo calling you home.

For in the vastness, there's room to find,
The beauty in the quiet, the peace of the mind.
The world may feel distant, but know this true;
The echo is a message, a whisper to you.

Every sound you make, a spark in the night,
Filling the void with your inner light.
The echo returns, but this time you see;
The emptiness was never empty; it was waiting for you to be free.

Do you recognize me?
I leaned on walls so cold and bare,
When winds arose, with silent despair,
I dimmed, like a flicker lost in the air.

I am darkness,
A shadow cast, solitude’s guise,
A tenant within, where the heart lies,
Perhaps a lover, or tears in your eyes.

But how did you catch my gaze?
Was it a fleeting, stolen phase?
The seconds I linger, unseen each day,
Clinging to life in twilight’s array.

Or did you look but fail to see,
The whispering void that’s part of me?

Each night, I waltz with shadows unseen,
As footsteps scatter through autumn’s sheen,
Lives diverge behind glass and frame,
Each window murmurs a different name.

I am myself, unbroken, unchanged,
A silent echo through time’s exchange.
Watching you dream through your window’s light,
A quiet figure that grows with the night,
Dwelling deep within your soul’s cityscape,
A ghost of this life, with no escape.

In an echo chamber
                                                                ­       horns blare

As her words    
                       dissipate
shared
                         soothing
  unfettered
                             laughter
   reverberates                    
                                ­   through every fiber
    finding                                                ­
                                           the darkest recesses
     burrowing                                                        ­              
                                                      its soothing claws deep
      keeping me                                                               ­                   
                                                                ­      rooted to the tracks
      I stain
                                                           ­           the cowcatcher
      I grind                                                            ­                              
                                  ­                                    through the gears
      I mince                                                            ­                            
                                                                ­      under the wheels
     I capitulate                                                       
        ­                                              over passed rails
    gutted

   fluid

  flows

freely

as her words


skinned and butchered
brand pastoral memories
and feed the mouths of mongers
boring into their last meal

Roaming night drives
beneath patchworked moonlight                                                        ­
over rural roads now

solo

all arrive at the same dirt
as calm conversation displaced
by glazed rumination

ends bumpy regardless
Their music
The Ambiance of a Restless Night
softening the shock

I sit watching brown eyes
probe affectionately through the haze
at the mirrors created by close family.
I think the intimacy that is made possible
by the sharing of wine, **** and space
in a dim room full of sad love and smoke
will never ceased to amaze me.
The men see themselves in each other
and are both heartened in their own ways
I am drunk now in my way
and The Mirror is ****** in his
and Brown (Green) Eyes is both at once
Appalachian mouths move in turns
to take a hit or a drink or a shot at wisdom
Suddenly the truth of our three souls is laid bare
on the tiny table there between us.
My heart tightens around the words
as they echo through each chamber
growing louder with each reverberation.
“Happiness is being able to breathe”

Love you, Frank.

Where is the sound
            That once gave meaning
To my name.
It seems lost in the echoes
                    The sound of a
Crying shame.

                     I try to pinpoint the time
Channels I was
Passing through
                    When I could interpret pre-echo
When each syllable
Rang true

                   When my offspring was purer
Relative to
Innate impurities.
                    Girl, boy vastly interrupted.
So much for blood
As a surety.

Belly fire lessens with years.
                     Caution blows back
In the wind.
Flirting with status quo delusions.
                    Slogans & logos
Slowly rescind.

                 Pure thought tainted with church & state.
Leftist & Right Wing views
Scientifically spliced.
                  This new world creation seldom takes sides.
Calculates the outcome & always
Dresses nice.

I’m halfway there, queasy still
                    Rhetorical views beginning to
Make sense.
Cautious malaise on either side.
                       Starch chaffing neck  
Outcome offense.

                       I occasionally hear my voice
That blew with caution
In the wind.
                    Volcano dormant still pushes the crust.
Delusions sicken me back
To the fringe.

Echo, tell me: Which men have fallen the Fall?        All.

And what is God, who's all in all, all of?        Love.

What should I place within the beggar's palms?        Alms.  

God made the feathers that makes the sparrow's flight        Light.

To sinners, how appear the ways of God?        Odd.

What has the Lord given to him who hears?        Ears.

What do they have who see through Satan's lies?        Eyes.

The saints who run to face the throne of grace        Race.

Who is the great-grandmother of the Truth?        Ruth.

From whom descended all the thin men of Haddam?        Adam.

Whom did the snake first practice to deceive?        Eve.

On her I place the burden of all the blame.        Lame.

What do I give the giver who gave the Law?        Awe.

I invented the electron multiplier.        Liar.

I am in a room where the darkness writhes.
I am fine I am fine I am fine I am fine.
The silence—
It chokes me,
And still I swallow it down.

But in this doggone echo chamber
All I hear is myself.
I am going insane to the sound
Of my own voice.

I beg the shadows
“Please, don’t leave me
Here,
Alone,
Forever.”

I scream,
“SAY SOMETHING TO ME.”

I cry,
𝘞𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯?