The mutation of night is scant
Upon the debris of not knowing

The cant of silence is dragged
Upon the relief of not knowing

The ragged flip of unknowing -
Its slip of tongue is showing;

And as the columns of red asks
And pallid tells shudder white

You confess you don't know, as
Lovewords sneak into daylight.

2 comments on “Unknowledge

  1. Melissa Shaw-Smith says:

    I enjoy the rhythm of your poetry as much as the word play. And this is yet another great example.

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