Hearing Nothing

January 28, 2007

I can hear silence:
the white noise of nothing,
a generator pumping
somewhere inside a wall,
in a brick built box of a
plaster hall, in a
city beyond

I can hear cars:
one after the other,
like they’re tied
bumper to bumper,
with long strands of rope
made of night time.
Their noise is lower
than the purr of the silence-
like wind being moved on
by air ducts
or geese.

I can hear ticking:
soft moth creeping
between exhalations
of burning wheels;
flitting on the
sound cords of silence,
like a quantum mechanical
engine. Can I hear-

Can I hear the sound of
ligaments creaking? of
people thinking? Of saliva
licking beneath my teeth.
Can I hear my ear drum
Can I hear follicles lifting
one by one
like hairs pulling out of

Can you hear it?

Tell me-

One Response to “Hearing Nothing”

  1. Hey, I really like this, it’s like at nightime the smallest sound is the profoundest thing, y’know? I think it’s cos when one is tired and not thinking straight everyhing somehow starts to feel special, and you just feel like getting in a car and going somewhere. great poem.

    “long strands of rope
    made of night time”

    ^ like it.

    Thanks for visiting my blog btw, I was gonna email you about it when it’s kinda decent enough to show…it’s not quite there yet. How do you keep the formatting intact when you post poems. I’ve tried posting one and it comes out like prose. Might be something to do with the template. Anyway, yeah, I linked you because I like you’re stuff. thanks for the read.


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