Sunday, April 28, 2024

poem

 White Noise

White noise machines

Dissolve distracting sounds

Clinking through the house 

Into an ambient soundless balm

Which helps us go to sleep.


Poetry is the white noise

Humming beneath the birdsong,

Hovering in the space between your arrival

And the look that flashes on my face.


It is the binaural beat

That wakes us up

The instant its tone is heard


4/28/24

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