After Driving Through the Desert and Reading Octavio Paz.

I
Silence
was born in the desert
between
two
yucca trees.

II
I write about the desert
to create

silence
between
words,

words like trees that begin
in the dirt and

move
toward the
firmament,

except my
words

move toward
nothing but

the memory of a
silent
desert full of yucca trees.

III
The rocks
were
silent,

the distant lake
carried
no
noise,

and I became the
phonemic variant
of
all
language.

IV
The desert is words
that are muted.

My knowledge of
words
bears no sound,

but the desert
is the true
arbiter of silence.

V
My silence
was born
in the snow-covered desert,

and I heard
what we have not yet heard
and what we thought
to never hear.