windows
raze
the
panes
of
glass
embedded
in
the
walls
that
surround
me
,
set
deep
in
beds
of
resin
and
gripped
by
glazing sprigs,
give
this
transient
morning
storm
a
grandeur
as
impressive
as
it
is
artificial
.
rain
and
wind
spar
with
sand
and
soda, mixing
a
cocktail
that
won't
dull
the
senses
or
leave
any
lasting impression.
it
won't
even
burn
the
back
of
my
throat
.
so
i'll
drink
it
all
in
one
breathless
gulp.
because
it's
already
gone
.
220415
...
ovenbird
As
the
weather
turns
warm
my
neighbours
throw
their
windows
open
and
I
get
to
peer
into
the
auditory landscapes
of
their
lives
.
The
man
next
door
plays
the
trumpet
and
I
am
gifted
with
the
sound
of
his
practice
carrying
from
his
house
to
mine
.
His
music
prompts
me
to
make
my
own
and
I
pull
out
my
violin
.
Play
a
few
tunes.
It
’s
like
we
’re
talking
to
each
other
.
Passing
notes
back
and
forth
on
the
breeze
.
Our
conversation
is
interrupted
by
a
neighbour
two
doors
down
screaming
along
to
death
metal
.
A
dog
is
barking
in
the
house
across
the
roadway.
A
child
is
practicing
the
piano
in
a
house
behind
mine
.
A
woman
is
calling
her
kids
for
lunch
.
I
like
the
symphonic quality
of
all
our
music
and
breath
and
voices
mixing–incongruous
demonic
scream
touches jazzy
trumpet
riff speaks
to
ancient
Irish reel reaches
out
to
staccato
piano
scale
answers
lunchtime summons
and
all
is
punctuated
by
the
excited
yips
of
a
small
dog
.
We
lend
ourselves
to
an
accidental
collaboration
and
I
feel
,
for
a
moment
,
that
I
am
a
part
of
something
.
250601
what's it to you?
who
go
blather
from
