Frank Mitchell


Silence encased
Enfolded in darkness
Perfect stillness
Nothing but

In out
Slow perfect
Miniature circles
In an airless void

Tiny eddies currents
Pool form gather

One different
Intent forms
Conscious thought
Squeezes to nothing

Softly gathering
Patterns of chaos meld
Form rhythms

Original snippet from “Harmonica”

Just voice.
And breath.
And tongue.
And lips.
And teeth.
Like kissing.