Quieter Things

A poem written.

Listen now to the quieter things,
below the tones of guitar strings
...and useless words of pen and ink...

To see the stars as crystalline salts;
burning scars you wish you wore.
Where sight fails the skin does tell:
the elsewhere of inner inklings,
hinting of the quieter things,
below the tones of guitar strings
...and useless words of pen and ink...

To taste the swirls of cigarette smoke,
calming the nights when love is spoke
in raging rites, explosions wrote;
caligrapher of the quieter things,
below the tones of guitar strings
...and useless words of pen and ink...

Behold! The open graves of final days,
below where we send the bones:
that place where tears know not the soul.
So final these words, so final the toll
of that bell drowning out the quieter things,
below the tones of guitar strings
...and useless words of pen and ink...