From Ear to Eye to Mouth
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.