Sometimes,
when I listen to music
it helps me see my path
like torches
along the way.

Other times
it’s like a wall
or a box
and I am inside
assaulted by the echo.

Today, I opt for sounds
unintended
because today I am not
an explorer,
I am a spring flower.

And I must let myself happen
with one movement
and perhaps another
or perhaps to imperceptible
to witness.

And yet there is movement
if only in the silence
silence allows becoming
and gentle coaxing
one word, to the next word, to the next.

Never, today, will I push words
through, but relish
each creation.

Waiting cursor
On call.

A car drives by
far out on the road
wet tires on wet road
ripping sounds in the distance
the clock pops it’s rythym
the computer, chewing it’s disc
and then a moment

And then I hear the rooster
only because
of silence
and my soul begins to bubble
and come forth
to inhabit my shell.

And it makes me wonder
what am I like
without my soul.