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it's not violence that i'm after

it’s not violence that i’m after

* * *

The Aspens are so beautiful
they do not understand anything I said.

— Wong May

Before there were radios there was still blue
static. I love static, the hiss-scrunch
of all those other worlds I can’t get to.

Before there were machines that let us punch
a hole in the ice sky no one listened

to static’s song. “The sky is not a roof.”
Static is not a fist. Language deafened
us to the mysteries of static. Soundproof

language. It’s not violence that I’m after.

But pain does take me to where I forget
everything. The first time I cut myself
I turned — was amazed that such a vulgar
noise could sing so lovely. Do not regret

language; just listen to the song itself.