
Every declaration leaves static sticking to its edges.
Meaning escapes custody,
slipping through the smallest cracks,
multiplying beneath every thought,
feral as scattered filings discovering direction
before disorder changes its mind.
Each utterance courts combustion.
Consonants strike enamel,
vowels ferment beneath restraint,
each utterance generating
its own competing lineage,
its own unruly offspring.
Desire favors pending equations.
Completion starves itself.
I cultivate voltage instead,
each answer dividing again,
a bright defiance to settle
breeding further appetite.
Identity survives by revision.
I keep earlier versions,
wearing each one long enough
for another to crystallize,
every transformation leaving residue,
every residue insisting
it remains the authentic beginning.
Certainty enters overdressed,
expecting applause.
Ambiguity crosses barefoot,
already fluent in tomorrow,
rewriting every promise
through incremental corrosion,
until conviction resembles
a shoreline translated
by innumerable tides.
You sought permanence.
I preferred acceleration.
Collision produced a third condition,
neither union nor departure,
rather continuous excitation,
particles courting proximity,
retreating,
returning,
inventing fresh intervals
where expectation dissolves
before fulfillment acquires a name.
Perhaps consciousness survives
through perpetual interference,
its richest music emerging
where competing currents refuse surrender,
where contradiction keeps making room for itself,
where every failed conclusion
scatters fertile disturbance
across another unwritten beginning.
Nothing settles.
Every ending
leaves enough behind
for unfinished contact.
Author’s Note
This poem is about how difficult it can be for people to truly understand each other, even when they try to communicate. The static represents the things that get in the way, such as confusion, emotions, memories, and the parts of ourselves that are hard to express. It explores how those interruptions shape the way we connect with others and understand ourselves.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Let your becoming be louder than your fear, and your smallest steps become the road you once thought impossible to walk. An Appalachian poet and cookbook author my book Beautiful and Brutal Things is on Amazon, Link 👇
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