MICROPHONE IN THE WALL Comments

We are finally alone
you and I,
but (don't even think
of taking it easy or resting
for your work is just now starting.
You will listen to my silence
which is loquacious
and draws you to the depth of truth.
Listen carefully now,
you beast with no eyes or tongue,
monster with ears only.
My spirit talks without voice,
shouts and screams inaudibly
with joy to have you here,
you Great Suspicion,
hungering for me to reveal myself,
My silence is opening books
and dangerous manuscripts,
lexicons and prophets,
ancient truths and laws,
stories of loyalty and torture.
There is no way you can rest,
you have to swallow this, gulp it down
though you arc already choking
and your car is exhausted.
You are unable to interrupt me
or say anything in return;
my time has arrived
and I insult you, curse you,
you impostor, poisoner,
desecrator, slave, satan,
machine, death, death.
You swallow your shame
and are condemned to listen
not to speak,
because you are a monster
with only ears
and a bellyful of treason;
no tongue or truth,
you are helpless, can call me neither weakling
nor powerful,
cannot utter words like 'grace' or 'despair,'
shout to me to stop
though you are burning with slavish rage.
I greet you, crippled creature,
am glad you are here
immured day and night,
you cursed extension of the Great Suspicion,
the diabolical belly of inhuman force
which is so feeble that it shudders day and night.
Now you evoke my power
my unified an undivided power,
I cannot plant someone else
in my place
I am who I am —
restlessness and searching,
sincerity and pain,
faith, hope, love,
your magnificent counter-suspicion —
you never can divide me,
make me your double,
catch me
lying or calculating.
You'll never be the executioner of my conscience,
you don't have a choice
bill to swallow my joy
or, at times, my sadness.
You, my enemy,
my infertile neighbor
so different and inhuman
unable to break loose
to become insane or to commit suicide,
I can tell
I wore you out,
your tail is between your legs
but this is only an outline.
of my revenge:
my true revenge
is a poem.
You will never know me,
your ears have no light,
will be hushed by the passage of time
while I am a tongue-flame
fire
that will never cease to bum
and scorch.
...
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