One day I heard her say:

“I have a dreamy kitchen.”

I pictured pots and pans hanging above

an old-fashioned stove, a light blue and white checkered

tablecloth on a wooden table for two.

And the morning frost beyond the kitchen door,

not reaching the warmth of her ears

from the night’s sleep.


I wondered:

What does she have for breakfast?

Does she make herself two sunny side-up eggs?

Is she too busy for eggs?

Perhaps she only eats yogurt before darting out the door.


You were always darting, not quite rushing,

but too fast for me to say hello.

your constant, unending noise
i rebuke thee, '*******!', beautiful mind strangled into crude curses
profane in nature,
rituals of execration in the dead of night and stillborn morning,
lit by a brazier of an ungodly hued red,
as you roar like thunder into delicate ears.

'please be quiet'
i petition to the wailing angels
stabbing at my eardrums with harpy claws,
rip my brain to shreds in echoes of outraged confusion
'tearin' out your hair like a banshee'
LEAVE ME ALONE

the singer should have warned us about his out of tune song
it was so undeserving of our live ears
the melody was unpleasant and the tune horrific
how could there be devotees to such bad talent
it just shows you that some ears are deaf...

Brian Hill - 2020 # 241

When I open my ears,
I can hear a symphony of beautiful sounds.
But it is too often that I let my ears go to waste,
and only keep my eyes wide open,
although they are unseeing.

Move

           to the
                     beat
        
                                of your own
                                                      soundtr­ack,


Before your ears are no longer moved by the notes.

It’s better to cover your ears.

It’s better to just close your eyes.

It’s better not to hold on to anyone.

It’s better if you will not feel any single
pain that I have been ignoring

this whole **** time.