loud noise

loud noise. is white. and black.
it is aged 11 years from 28 minus 2.
it is iron cast into a mold that knows it will hold many things.
it is the shadow of that same building.

it is looking down a fault line into the belly of a familiar beast.

it is that disturbance like cicadas with their many wings and voices whining in june. this year it was late. it still comes every evening.

it is a cooked frown.

and

a capricious weather front.

it is everything cliche about a rose. even red.

it is an end.
it
is
a
stumble
also.

it has but one eye.

it is the heart of darkness.
and a venetian blind.








it is number nine broken.

it is a swell of belittling laughter.

and a back growing farther away with time.