From Ear to Eye to Mouth


From Ear to Eye to Mouth

Ellora Sen

Artwork by Luna Bongers


If my ear were a gateway, I’d welcome you to step into my mind.

To see all the comings and goings of my thoughts and fancies

the many doors of shapes and textures, the long-forgotten memories

hidden between my vast valleys and rivers of half-finished thoughts

strange empty spaces of in-between, the corners of my mind.

It could be a whole world, and I would hand you an unfinished map

asking you to complete it, refill the faded lines, chart the undiscovered territories

giving them identities.

You’d follow the main path, down into my imagination, a spinning wheel of sorts

watching, as I pull bits and phrases, churning them till I find an idea.

a meaning out of the jumble.

Then I’d set to work, knitting and threading them together to create a certain something

I’d hand it to you and you’d drape it around yourself

so, you could better understand me.



On you would keep walking, between my many mountains and monuments

My rivers of unfinished ideas, running amuck

never-ending through my thoughts.

between exotic animals, with wild manes and rolling eyes

deeper into the strangeness of my mind.

You’d walk between the shadows, the spaces of in-betweens

where my evil beings lurk, of what exactly I’m not sure and never been.

You’d tread carefully, lightly, so as not to rouse my nightmares.

The ones I’ve locked away, and long-forgotten where I’ve left the key.

Past the shadiness and darkness, you’ll step out into the light.

A blinding brilliant light, glowing with my promises of tomorrow

hopes we all contain, tucked away, at times forgotten

yet still they shine, and hope, and dream, and remain

little spurts escaping, trickling free of their confinement

reaching out into my mind.



Moving on you’d reach the top, the tip of my thinking cap

my secret hidden genius of corks and screws all winding together.

A machine that ticks and tocks, spewing out answers round the clock

simple and straightforward, there’s a right to a wrong.

But there’s only so much time, till you grow bored of my machine,

pressing on, hoping to see what’s more unseen.

Eventually, you’d approach some edge of my mind

an ocean lies before you, lapping at the shores of my surrounded island.

Where it started and where it ends we’re not sure

for this is the edge of my consciousness, the part that wonders of the far beyond.

My many endless questions repeating and growing with time’s knowledge

of who we are, and why we’re here, why we’re made, and where we’re from.

The wanderer in us all makes his home here.

Maybe you’d find a boat, built from screws, light or shadows, and tiny knitted thoughts

because after time, you know it will become a trap

becoming lost through all the worlds of in-betweens.

For when you have listened

long enough through my ear

and seen enough

from my eyes

you’d want to add voice to your thoughts, so you’d sail on.

Out through the hole of my mouth.






Est. 2018

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©2018 by thebrokenprinter.