Outside the Quiet Place
God
I need your help
I need the quiet
And am I
Too poor
For this
The wealthy can buy
Quiet
I suppose
And I could consider
Monkish ambitions
As my sister
Likes to say
In
A monkery
I don’t want silence
Really
As if
To live inside
The Cone of Silence
That they mismanaged
On Get Smart
Because
In fact
I like normal noise
And isn’t that
Relative
But children playing
Cars
And trucks
That pass by
And if their noise is bad
Well
They pass by
Dogs barking
Even cats thumping
As they run
Above
For rivalry
Or for recreation
Only
I’m thinking
My notion
Of good noise
Is minimal
And self-determined
For the world
And so
Sigh
Unworkable
Go back to being wealthy
And I could buy a camp
Inside
The wilderness
Where even bears
Are satisfied
To say away
Near their own moving
Water
For the fish
And foxes cry
But I know their noise
By now
And what is it
Owls
Scream
And crickets cry
By Shakespeare because
Folklore
Has it
That way
As it knew
(whoever it might be)
While drafting
C L Couch
Macbeth 2.2.15-16
Photo by Keith Hardy on Unsplash
V is for Vixen
A female fox, I think
Moving in from the country
To the London suburbs
Fox-hunting was outlawed,
You know, giving all the
Red-fur, sure-footed
Creatures and creations
A chance for a shopping
Life, residing maybe in
Duplexes
Red herring, reality before
Fallacy, was used to train
Hounds in fox-hunting:
What if it’s a delicacy for
Foxes now (red herring,
Not the hound)?
Fallacy become fact in
Reparation
With foxes in chaise
Lounges, leaning back
Into beneficent afternoon
Sunshine, snacking on
Salty fish
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