I’m going to fold myselfup a tin-foil hat
and walk out in the rain, try to short-circuit
this constant buzzing, redirect it with a Kaiser
Spike, a weathervane made out chicken bone
I’m going to candle this ear, this end-of-tonight’s
broadcasting-static, let the hot wax cool
into perfect-wicked cochlear images, and then
I’m going to set them on fire, burn the sound
down like a lightning-struck tree, a feeble black
thread I’ll give a good yank.
I’m sterilizing needles for acupuncture, studying
reflexology. I’m going to roofa pound myselfquiet.
All I want is to hear my heart beat, blood pooling
into bruises, my own thoughts moving in a straight line.
Placing pennies on closed eyelids draws all the sounds
away from a body, bottle trees evict any kind ofhaint,
dog bark overwrites exclamation point script and there’s
aways the garbage disposal, the dishwasher, to grind
to ground, to wash away.
The vacuum cleaner with its attachments designed
specifically to exhume dirt and dander, dust and dead
cell, is worth a try, but first the hat, flag-of-surrender
folded, shiny side in, or maybe sculpted into a fancyrestaurant left-over swan.
I’m going to swim away on a sea ofhum-statichiss-ring-buzz, use it against itself, transmit to the
universe on my private frequency, while I take a bat
to invisible, internal pitches, and when the storm
finally comes, just to target something tangible,
hit soft-ball sized hail over the backyard fence in the rain