From my old “in progress” files i found yesterday:
Words
who can muster words to flow
like some swirling sea,
still expecting the world to know
what’s beneath the waves and foam?
who can spray forth torrents
of loud and verbose brine
believing the following silence
means everyone else is like inclined.
Newport, Rhode Island
January 1969
Thanks for sharing this poem. For some reason it reminds me of the current days.
It was good to see you and Maureen.