Angela Stubbs: The Impracticability of Silence

Fall '12 TOC 

A bird doesn't say
you know that and I never told you.
You must know by now.
I have tried quiet smiles.
I wish I told you but.
You know what happens when it happens.
It happens like this.
It is almost that.
It is real when you wear denim.
I am sitting with words, screaming truths behind red lips.
I am in a chair.
I am telling you answers, just not in the way you want them.
You are overthinking it.
You are good at that and I like it and dislike it.
Those thoughts are what I'm whispering to you.
There are missing pages.
I wish I could give you the other fifty.
What do you think, really?
You are one plus my one and five and that equals.
It equals.
You have no idea from here.
It's how you cultivate friendship.


Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
© 2012 Naropa University