Tuesday, February 23, 2021


Across our tensed cities, 
even the silence

gets oppressive-
ly loud.

Between gusts 
and honks and 

slithering filaments—
there rises, not rebellion,

but the bizarre 
rush of deafness. 

One cannot cup 
one's ears 

to shield them from this
invisible rush—

this turbulent 
lack of so much

which claps close around, 
yet booms far 

from profound.
How quickly

the head becomes 

as a wet sponge, 

thick as it now is 
with the dumbness.