Three Questions Unasked: Parted Lips Whisper

my question asked
simmers into carnival silence
as the summer winds
die down

fifteen sentries abdicate their posts
leaving an artifice totally consumed
within itself

empty

and yet
those tendrils reaching out
in still air

I dared one question
wrapped in historical illusion
as protection

my three other questions
not whispered
offer none

breathe in
as though this never happened

then count to three

1.

(How will I know
once winter entertains
tea parties and trees grow
from saplings
like grand ideas

what in my life
grants permanence
to any intense feeling
that inspires

Daedalus to try
to save his son

each time
in this hot sun?)

2.

(To speak of sex is like
asking magicians their magic
before seeing their trick

but I want to know

how high this ascent
climbs mountains
into the land of eagles

and from whence we slide
down into deep canyons
where warm rivers flow?)

3.

(How will these moments
sacred and timeless
expand into a lifetime
of epiphanies

dancing flames like
San Francisco in 1906

covering the whole city
in midnight red?)


now please
part those lips
to let in three
breaths

one - two - three