Infinite Interiors

“Sound of Silence” by Ute Laum

 

fathom dimensions of silence

the in-between state

of our human expression

I know it is deep

so deep it contains

every sound ever made

every wail of existence

the birthing the living

the crying the dying

explosions and whispers

hummed utterances of the cosmos

distinctive and resonant voices

of God men and galaxies

sounds we lodge soundlessly

in among folds of our mind

preserved perfectly pure

authentic of tenor and tone

signal sounds

fain accompaniments

telltale halings of actions

decisions convictions emotions

these heralded signals unheard

nonetheless unmistakable

thoughts come to audible life

in this silence

ideas and beliefs

sing their cognitive psalms

this is vast quiet emptiness

filled with the knowable noise

and the measureless substance

of everything

worthy of owning

 

 

From my book Pieces of Wine

Small Noise

“Foggy Moon II” by Sherry Genovar-Simons

 

fog has a sound
if you listen
droplets burst
low to ground
on atomized air
the small noise
of conflict
encounters of cold
vying warmth
for supremacy
settling their hash
moistly wrestling
swirled in their
clinches the tails
of their veils
smudge the moon
till agreement
finds voice in
thin whispering
vapors of truce
just in time for the
yawning of dawn
before boulders
borrow the sun

 

 

From my books Small Noise and Legacies (vol. 2)

Perfect Pitch

“Hearing” by Jake Nordstrom

it’s all in the ear

the unconscious

eidetic discernment

of decency’s sounds

perfect packets

of audible memory

set-pieces pitched

as esthetic ideals

within deep

secret centers

electrically charged

limbic episodes

bearing distinctions

of pure synesthesia

a rarely placed gift

that must suffer

great pain to endure

through a lifetime

cacophonous discord

and dissonant speech

of unflinching

political hacks

who assault the

intelligent senses

of citizens

yearning for

elegant music of

justice and truth

fairly played in a

most human harmony

Quiet Time

 

“Sunset in the Graveyard of Trees” by Tony Karp

 
it’s quiet in the shade of years
dreams no more than murmurs
the growl of ego long since spent
the brassy noise of strident youth
transposed to dulcet memories
as time exerts its damping force
the shadows seek reflective thought

within the mind persist mute clicks
a lifetime rolls like reels of film
with captioned silent questions
the wonder now no longer what
or why but rather when and how
it’s quiet in the shade of years
the only sound the setting sun

Aurality

 

Man Sleeping by Morris Graves

silent mornings make no sense
every waking needs noise
clocks and coffee pots
birdsong and bone creaks
the cough up of phlegmatic dreams

so this silence must signal I’m dead
unless it just means
that it’s not quite yet morning
for soundlessness perfectly
suits my insensible nights

 

 

(originally posted October 2013)

Aural History

 

 

“South Street Seaport – Financial District” – Photo by Suman and Sharmila

 

 

iron-rimmed wheels

drawn by iron-shod hooves

gave a clattering cadence

reverbing dull bells

ringing atonal peals

along ill-masoned lanes

of Belgian block cobbles

and dredged Venice stones

bilge-pitted from urine

of a hundred stout lads

crude ballast unshipped

for a nickel a ton

from heart-of-oak vessels

of mercantile Brits

singing Cockney crew lingo

with cargo commands

over heaps dropped in nets

upon creaking tarred wharves

Schermerhorn Dutch

gave out guttural barks

to the breaking breeze humming

through neatly reefed yards

slung up high-crossed on masts

overtowering docks

where a nautical polyglot

spilled its cacophony

up and down gangplanks East

Indiamen hove in place

with great bangs and hard crashes

that echoed across the wide

swift running current dividing

Manhattan from Brooklyn

from my forty-floored glass

looking down on the seaport

when sail-masted schooners

or frigates would moor

all the sounds of the centuries

rose up to reach me

transporting me back to

that wild newborn world

of rapscallion romance

and mean edged adventure

where men grunted glory

for merely surviving

another new day

all the time feeling wistful

that I had been born

too long after my time

***********************************

 

(Note: my office was on the 40th floor of the octagonal tower at enter of the photo)

 

 

(originally posted November 2013)

Spring Peepers

 

“The Red House” by Judith Donaghy

 

the smallest of frogs
keep evening large and alive
we sleep soundly

Bells

 

“Ring the Church Bells” by Catherine Bennett

 

 

purity rings
diaphanous tones
in vitreous waves
lenses moistened
euphonically
speaking glass words
up a shivering spine
crystal colors
of grateful
impetuous smiles
for the blessings
of Sundays

 

(originally posted June 2013)

Night Music

“Moon Over Ocean” by Barbara Harmer

the sea speaks to dreamers

rolling blue rumors

a rhythm of murmurs

suggesting how life

might have been

and might yet come to be

driving sleep along paths

only minds have the means

to negotiate guided by

swells and deep swoons

of a basso profondo

enchantment the sonorous

voice of the ocean at night

reimagining meaning of

motion and motives

in light of the moon

Beachcombing

Seashell Abstract by Melody Cleary

 

shells speak in sensual contours
whisper demure concave yearnings
in delicate patterns of striated sounds
mouths tickled by foam quelling
whimpering pearlescent palates
concupiscence modestly veiled
beneath tawny moans of the surf