ECHOES

ECHOES

All is disposable,/ except for that which/ persists. The echo/ unhinged from/ the sound that/ threw it. ---Hannah Stephenson, “Aftermath”, The Storialist, 11-28-11

1. 

How far will an echo go

before it peters out to

leave its source’s halloo

sounding thin and hollow? 

How long will this echo

last in hallways that throw

peels of joy that follow

a escape from deep sorrow? 

Is it a will-o-the-wisp, too,

much like the brief flow

of warm breeze over snow

that won’t melt nor thaw? 

Everything here must go.

All is disposable. But echo

that ripples here through

time is an eternity or so. 

Am I not after all a shadow

of that maker of a rainbow,

who sent a dove not a crow

to fly from that ship’s bow? 

Am I not truly God’s echo? 

2.   

Echoes shape corridors lean

leaving them a cipher’s silence

not unlike the axiom of a day: 

All things go up to fall the way

fractured birdwings fall, violence

met in the loins of wind. 

Lean corridors shape echoes,

silence ciphering them, leaving

a day axiomed as not what is unlike  

the way the fall of things strike:

violence on the fractured birdwing,

winds loyned with zodiaqual zeroes.* 

 3.  

O THAT A FALL MUST GO
GO MUST A FALL THAT O

THE WAY A COMET’S TAIL
TAIL A COMET’S WAY...

---Albert B. Casuga

11-30-11

*Loyned – being the sound of echoed “loined”; zodiaqual, is “zodiacal” (from arcane to new).