Friday, April 2, 2010



Let us all be dephoned.
Let the grid be snatched out
from underneath us quickly,
a tablecloth plucked out
from still and perfect place settings.

Let us all be dephoned.
Perhaps language will leave.
Mouths can clap like hands,
and speech knocks out in
wood-block pops, applause.

Let us all be dephoned.
We forget what the phone is,
the plastic box that holds nothing,
heats the ear, that chirps
or trills inside of garments.

Let us all be dephoned.
Let it happen. Let silence settle
over the land like dusk, all of us
at once not talking, but not
deafened. Dephoned.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. So sorry for the multiple comments. Blogger was giving me trouble and it kept saying that my post didn't go through. Blogger lied!

  3. Hey, that's my drawing. Do you mind if i add your poem as its description?

  4. Yikes! I somehow deleted all the comments...not what I meant to do!

    Blogger is actin' up.

    Stephen, yes, please feel free to post this poem with your image, and could you kindly include my name or a link here? :)

  5. "Mouths can clap like hands"

    Yes, I can picture this so well.

    I like how the repeated phrase become an anthem.



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