movement of time through the music of space,
eye hear a bell ringing blue in sentences,

the language spoken in sleep becomes an echo here,
a translation when written down on white paper,

in the air, when spoken, words seem like a dream
pulsating through ether in blue melodies of tongues

weaving inside sentences, packed with local
idioms, carved from blue spaces by human breath,

sounds rooted in voices here evoke metaphors
coursing blood-deep, form ancient tribal gestures,

where words fixed in geographic locations repeat
through reverberating memory, bring recognition

ricocheting through a collective truth, perhaps
then language can evoke a shared history,

music, when sentences mirror rhythms of tongues
poetry rises like suns birthing circles of love
Jessica Hilt
Reprinted from Errançities New Poems 2006 - 2011 by QuincyTroupe,  Coffee House Press, Fall 2011