A Final Thought

Written words are so bare---
Let some thoughts exist
Which will be unrecorded.
Speak them, in oral poetry
Which cannot be censored.
Learn to hone your life
In listening, and short phrases.
Learn to be interested in others.

Poetry is my voice, and I am tired of it.
Rather, I like to listen to a thousand voices
All speaking their minds---I miss it.
Other people's wisdom.
Let me be silent now,
And peer into my silent lips
With wisdom spoken by others.
Attune to the oral poetry
Of life, and stop writing every thought
Every detail---the robin was beautiful
Upon the deck, its fat belly filled with eggs.
Yet, speak a word of poetry or two
Which can be for only one or two ears.
Do not, always, be recording your thoughts.
Do not always be throwing your thoughts
To the wind. Who is it for?
Listen, why don't you?
Listen to the wind, the voices of the ones you love.
Listen, and you will feel the swelling within your ileum. 
If I be a poet, I must learn to listen.
For only by listening, have I anything worthwhile to say.
And say some things once, and don't write it.
Say things once, for one ear, for one time
Let it evaporate, and return later as a planted
Seed. Then, be silent, as the rain comes
With the lightning's fertilization
And it comes with a mellow silence;
A tattoo of pitter patter tapping against the roof.
Listen to it, and the voices of those around you.
Stay silent.
For speech destroys the pleasant reverie;
It disturbs our peace.