'fiant verba' (september 2008)

ultimately, you are best
left undescribed
by my ancient philologue tongue:

a collision of sounds
shapes the colour of texture
and a smell wakening senses
to the tangible tastes
of lightwaves

I can feel you on my mind.
a blistering undefined
potential
freedom

I dare not suppose these secrets to myself
and reduce the confusion of inputs
to the bleakly two dimensional-
the things others have said before

something new
altogether unanticipated
eradicating in its presense
the old order of syntax

your allure, ancestral
a call heard over the aeons
always testing.
a call for a response

so how do I treat you?
as a wound left open
to be filled with the clumsiness
of centuries of stumbling phrases?

an aphasia
the lack of the right striking point
as I hammer out your shape in my mind

I have no way to tell of you
your patterns unknown to a lexicon
mired in a past that never knew
your name

I have nothing to say of you-
not for beauty, wit or heart
for you are a new thing
unknown
but

my mouth will open
and the dust of millions
will shake from my voice,
attempting.
fiant verba