Inspired men long to be heard fall in the forest.
Quiet men listen to the static of stars and
hear only the heat in the equipment.
Clamor of civilization, the bang and
babble and clatter of our machines,
are tempting end day signs, a stench to the ears.
Mankind is seeded in grunts and groans
exits the womb and world
amid screams and moans.
He is surrounded by electric residual hum and
hiss of words in the wire.
Move the noise, broken in two and passed around.
Gather the remnants in wicker winnowing baskets.
Sift the noise clean and glean with your sound.
Bend stray timbres with bare fingertips
until new notes fill the air with sigh music
and miracles make sense.