You and I can never be silent.
Why can we not be silent together, you and I?

The pieces are to many and nothing has been created;
I wandered indifferent streets like an animal searching for them.

Somewhere below the nightmares that haunt me I found them,
but they asked to remain uncovered amongst the soles of our shoes.

You and I can never be silent.
Why can we not be silent together, you and I?

Now there are strings like a thousand weights;
soon there will be blank pages.

All this shifting back and forth makes the dryness pass slowly,
the quarreling of constant directions.

You and I can never be silent.
Why can we not be silent together, you and I?


The Creation of Stones

Wamth
spread itself thin,
consciously plunging and exhaling
down to
passing
a crag faced death
above an ocean's swallow.
Whisper gently.
Whisper like frigid, blue circumspection.
And pulsation
with a crooked nostalgia
will storm mind's vein,
concluding that not every
stone
can be overturned.

-two poems by Sean Gregory Swearinger