If you listen twice as hard, the silence will rumble with the raucous calling of birds. Awake to this reality, this invisible landscape that colors your every move, that washes you in the sound of its desire.
They dance right in front of you! They make love on your bed! They play chess on your cheeks! The sounds of their laughter makes the dogs run in circles, their moans are the source of your fevered dreams. It is all right there…next to that little toe.
If you look twice as much, with every bit of those speckled brown eyes, with every fiber you can summon, the sidewalk will turn from a gray slab to a complex pattern of texture and stories. The view will begin to wobble and twist, the houses just beyond the path will scream out with their colors and the energy around the roof will begin to ripple and the ghosts will call to you from their seats on flower pots.
If you listen, clearing your thoughts…if you listen, opening your heart…you will hear the sparkling spaces between words. Small clusters of letters will reveal themselves, showing themselves to be simple vehicles for a greater discovery. With enough patience, the clusters will melt, falling back to assume their place among creatures of orbit and light sound. They are just the link between home and adventure. They are just the servants, the thinly clothed language for discovery.
If you listen twice as hard, the sounds of the refrigerator and the murmur of the passing car and the clink of the neighbor’s hammer will rise and create the Orchestra of Random Sounds. Each exclamation is a welcome addition, a new spark that lights the path. This is the music of unwitting contributors, musicians with no microphone, no stage. They live, so they create. Some know this and listen.
If you listen twice as hard, the shouting becomes a song. The squeals become a symphony of organized anguish. I pull my hands from my ears, I throw off the blanket and fall into their pool.
A muted beat comes from the cage within me. It supplies the steady beat, the deep base that never falters. Boom, boom…booom….I am part of you, the bird cries shower me in lilting pleasure. The roar of a motorcycle plays with the skin above my breasts, wrapping me in its vibrations of ecstatic rotation.
If you look twice as hard, perhaps you’ll notice the lights are sparkling with electric blue dots. Perhaps you’ll see the naked woman with the key around her neck, beckoning you forward. If you listen twice as hard, you’ll hear her words and maybe you’ll taste the wisdom she sheds.