An unheard poem infiltrates the ear
despite the pissed voices that drown it out,
just like cicadas that hatch on odd years,

time amplifies, there is no need to shout.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Jul 20, 2012 @ 00:10:51

    I wish we had cicadas in London parks.
    I wish we had warm summer nights in which to listen to them.


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