Big Voices, small pages

Poetry is at a standstill,

but our sheer will 

keep living words from going 

silent.

Big voices piercing small pages,

like ink drawn

by index fingers.

Sirens—

Dry replies implying our rise is 

dead 

will never quiet me/us.

and so we comment back.

If you can’t chant snap three 

times,

may your reaction be silence—

or go back to your blog 

to pay homage.

—JG  ©2026