TO DERRIDA

This poem deals with my frustration to inadequately describe with words the picture that is in my head. I titled it TO DERRIDA after the famous French deconstructionist Jacques Derrida. I don't always agree with his writing, but we both share a similar passion in regards to objects, language and meaning.

TO DERRIDA

I want to work in the absence of words,
to write poetry that is not to be read but felt.
For with words we can only get so close,
trembling on the edge of something that is real,
And pregnant with life—but never falling over
like a white-winged bird or a stone slipping off
its dust-filled perch and falling, ever falling,
feeling the wind against its granite surface
and smiling in the small hard way that rocks do.

I want to work in the absence of words,
and feel the wind against my face.
I want to create living, breathing objects
that stay breathing even when the lights are out
and the cardboard cover casts my creation in shadow.

I want to work in the absence of words…
but alas, like a blacksmith creating horseshoes
out of fire—words are all I know.