Friday, May 18, 2007

The Creaking Chair

In silence
The high sound of my nervous system,
The low sound of my circulation.
The world is all murmurs and alarms in my blood.
A displacement of air,
A periodic vibration.
I dwell among shades.
And weather the body’s long audition,
The séance of noisy spirits.
Feel the earth-hum,
Free oscillations too subtle for the ear;
All is atmosphere.
The echoing drip of a kitchen tap
Expands my mind
To the size of the universe.
In ancient China
A musician plays the ch’in,
Reserving for his subtlest touch
Just the motion of his bloodstream.

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