Selected Poems by Paulette Jiles. Reprinted with permission of the author. You have to be careful telling things. Some ears are tunnels. Your words will go in and get lost in the dark.
Some ears are flat pans like the miners used looking for gold.
What you say will be washed out with the stones. You look for a long time til you find the right ears. Til then, there are birds and lamps to be spoken to, a patient cloth rubbing shine in circles, and the slow, gradually growing possibility that when you find such ears they already know. Reprinted with permission of Far Corner Books. I write in English, dream in Spanish, listen to Latin chants.