Listen. Do you hear that?
the retrograde sound,
gears shank against one another
the bruxism’s icky grind-sound:
distant crashes in faraway night dreams:
These are the sounds
all forms of repression make:
when you try to forget all
the bad things that happen:
a sharp click barely heard
through all the sounds of the world.
(Ineradicable. Won’t leave the world of sound.)
Listen, through the birdsong, even
through the trees trying to bud:
an up-flutter of negative potential
of entropy made visible.
Radio Free Retrograde
is not on the air.
Sunday morning oranges
and cat-stained coverlets:
The young pre-wife nestles
against her hubbie-to-be in three
they suck down a smoky dab or two.
Libertarians, they think they can
avoid the Big Heel somehow
they ain’t worried
Hey honey where
we goin’ for breakfast?
Is that noise the train?
O look at this…!
© 2017 Thomas N. Dennis