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Wednesday Morning Soundscape

Swimming waves of divergent black wools.
Human chattering.
And then it is all chattering everywhere.
It’s noise of harms of half-large self-importance.
Billions of layers of chattering, thicker than god.
Clicking of heels.
Sound is not studied when it is our own.

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This entry was posted on March 26, 2011, 12:05 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

  1. #1 by Evelyn on March 26, 2011 - 4:35 pm

    “Sound is not studied when it is our own”
    lovely

    Reply

    • #2 by Carl on March 26, 2011 - 10:16 pm

      Thank you, my friend.

      Reply

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