friday, december 2

outside a snow is falling
into oblivion and dripping
from the last leaves, becoming
a thin quiet stream at the place where a rainspout
just beside the sleeping bees
should connect the gutter to the ground
and i imagine the sound
of it is something like that of silence
in my headphones, a low rustle or tiny
click - like turntable noises or the
end of a tape.

tags: topics/poem

p1k3 / 2005 / 12 / 2