To Be Clear

no, thing
naught wight
if not clear
to the floor
who wears
no ears

who won’t talk
but the beer
makes void
the crooked path
down the page
to the sea

and to the critic
a still small voice
lives in a library
built of stone
nothing staged
untended

not what
can’t be
explained
in a footnote
“no symbols
where none…”

inflected
by tense
mood
a person’s
case
carried.