The Tin Whistle Menagerie

Silence for me is…

my seconds-apart clocks ticking out of sync

the rustling of my hamster finding warmth within her cage

the squeaking of floors both above and below me

babies crying along side their abused mothers

the building door and car doors slamming

the ting and bubble of my floor radiator

a group of birds reciting melodies

the humming of this Earth’s electricity

I listen closer, press my ears against thin air

Hear that constant siren, faint enough that I don’t care

Begin to think for a moment of what you did this morning. When you placed your feet upon the ground, simultaneously throwing the covers from your chest into the corner of your bed, was there an abstract thought that entered your consciousness? There always is yet we never remember what it is the second after it occurred. Tomorrow morning, when that thought hits you, remember it. It will help you throughout your day.

You should never feel trapped inside your head.

Use your mouth, your hands.

They’ll help you escape.

Confusing threads entwined in my mind
Sometimes plucked free
Sometimes woven tighter
But no additions to the quilt of my thoughts.

Shopping carts filled with chemicals killed the
conscious thoughts of our idols.