noisy raze from the birds praying to the dark to the wind breath devoid of melody to the drumming of the rain if there's rain if there's percussion to be played to the sting of the sun in tired eyes a sort of hissing if you're listening for it to the songs the refrigerator sings fraught with warnings too vague to be understood to the braying of engines stressed past the point of reason to the low hum of a fan coaxing pieces of dreams from the night before into something almost whole to the skitter of fingers on keys like the footsteps of many small things to the breaths drawn and expelled in a modest imitation of a large body of water and the rhythm of its push-pull to the chewing of food to the opening and closing of doors made more or less forgiving by the water in the air to the beginning of a thought with no clear trajectory so it just rattles around inside the skull to the divot of your arm when it's kissed and made to feel like a mouth that's forgotten how to speak to the whisper of a dark sky weaving its way through whatever's left of the day everything is noise 210417 what's it to you? who go blather from