As though the voices
were bounced back
hitting off
the hardwood floors
reverberating
through the common footings
up through the floorboards
and shooting in the zone
above the rooftops
in a radar’s sweeping arc.
Tag: sound
Devices.
wait
a train passes
quietly whistles
whispers past
wait
in silence latent
another train passes
faster
wait
in mounting silence
with its beauty
latent
silent
gone
wait
in stillness
with its silent beauty potent
fragrant stillness
idly still
wait
and another train passes
and silence once broken
creaks achingly
shrieks
the ugly shriek of morning cockatoos
strewing seeds from the gum-tops
fretfully
shrieking
swooping wide white wings low over streets
with anxious shrieking
and shaking
as another train passes
rumbles
and another train
grumbles
sweeping silver streak
shrieking
creaking on the tracks
rumbles underground
the city groans
achingly
shrieks
the city groans
anxiously
speaks
in silent ugly words
scattered like seed by the morning cockatoos
Trains of Thought.
as another train passes outside
its rumbling vibrates the floor
pouring its energy
into my feet
into my spine
whispers
the city breathes
as another train passes outside
pouring the sorrowful
onto the streets
rumbles
pouring its energy
into my feet
into my spine
and in the city’s breathless silence
the craw of a crow
the ugly morning shriek of cockatoos
soaring
from the tall gums that line the tracks
mast and sails (the shops are ships)
as another train passes outside
whispers
into my feet
into my spine
as another train passes outside
echoes long down the cutting
carries ghosts of memory
flitting past
past
past
as another train passes outside
and thoughts are scattered
like wildflower seeds
and another train passes
diffused
like the broken ripple of water
after a ship has passed through
glinting in the sunlight
as another train passes outside
and light rain-drops titter at the windows
chuckling at the tipsy-pink rose glass
and the rain falls more steadily now
drenching
grows louder
not patter but pour
and a train passes
muffled
whispers
the city weeps
sweeps the dirt from its gutters
runs rivers
ripples down the rose-glass window panes
and a train passes
rumbles
and groans
the city grumbles
and shrieks the ugly shriek of morning cockatoos
and another train passes
whispers
the city breathes
once lulled
now lush
the rain sweeps across the rooftops
runs rivers
down the drain-pipes
tips tips tips
drips
down the chimney-pots
where there’s no wood-smoke
on a wednesday
After Midnight on a Wednesday.
Next door, the whine of dial-up internet
I wonder why
are they spies?
Magical: Day One 