My eardrums shudder
as helicopters mix air
and whip thought to fluff.
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My eardrums shudder
as helicopters mix air
and whip thought to fluff.
The geese, the airplane
one crow, the departing L—
sound chasing sound.
Paper falls in stacks
another page, another
buried message.
Half the night awake
the rest—dark radio rolling
over empty plains.
He let no word sit
picking up each sound each day
to put them back right.
Angled morning light
defined rooms beneath the trees—
each unoccupied.
The L from afar—
a long inhalation
preparing to shout.