“O nly mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things?” “Wha… what the hell was that?” I wake, staring into the darkness, when again comes, slightly garbled, “only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things?”
Turning the lights on I see a fiend of mine, who’s been sitting in the dark, mumbling. “Dante, what the hell’re you saying” I question, staring quizzically at him. Again he says, “only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things? I read it in a book. What do you think it means?”
“I don’t have the first damned clue what that means, or who that might be,” I reply, dumbfounded. “Hold on!” I exclaim, “Got an idea! Maybe it’s — Tom Waits!?”
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rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse