he echoes
of a night
drift
through my screen mesh.
A man explains
fervent
against a Crown Vic’s
acceleration.
Crickets pulse
aloof
as tree branches
rustling above.
And why
does a horn slice
insistent
across the rustling
of dry leaves?
Anonymized
by distance,
a dog yelps
in pain
incomprehensible.
Our city
vast as starscapes
whose lights
yet travel
to our eyes.
i am a distant hope
i make no sound
my ballpoint
is a ninja.
How much less am i
than a single cricket:
whose sound brings sex
the thousand-throated drums
of pheromones in ecstasy?
While yet
my pregnant wife sleeps
through her symphony
of ninjas.
One evening soon
the rain will fall.
I will watch
the smallest inifinty
of sound
blanket her all.
Hope begins
in the distance.
i thought i heard
a firefly
caught in a jar
she swallowed
though truly
the patter of wings
is much like
the rain.