mistress of pink noise

she sets eyes of her ears
on vibrations that go
low 
and slow

stretching the skin of eardrums
over the waves that come
rare 
and bare

bouncing muscles of her ear
off the parts that are
round
roll on sound

the stream of subtones enters her body
caress her soul

the tide of subbass goes right through to bone
get control

she picks up a rock, throws it against the dock
the delight there is born, envy jericho horns
the echo of break opens the world yet to take

she swings her head to the beat
of subterrestial rhythm 
mode
and code

tapping the bright pinkish heels
on the edge of the
pitch
(how dare she witch!)

crossing the line as they shout
but she can't hear it, it's too 
loud
too human sound

the rumble of the cracks scratches her neck
loosens her back

the base of heartrate touches the lips
opens her aches

she plugs in the speakers, volume up to the peakers

the high treble depress, no limit on low express

the bypassers stand shocked, the gate to heaven unlocked

she collects tools of measurement, the tapes,
the disks, the treasures

seals the place off, walks home

in the dimlit old empty water container, behind the wood desk,
she writes in her journal:

below certain frequencies, the speed of the soundwaves becomes impossible to be measured without losing control of the impact of the acoustic habitat. And yet, one must go even lower. And slower.

low leaves of summertime

my hair in the grass
my ears in a breeze
my toes in a shadow
still some dirt on my knees

my eyes set on sun
and my lungs barely breathe
with top of my fingertips
i touch gentle ease

my lips slightly open
and some red on my cheeks
my spirits get high

but when you speak of love,
speak low

i watch the sky blue
and i think even less
as clouds pass by
comes the warmth of caress

my desires turn real
not an ounce of stress
i whisper out your name
all is clear, no need to guess

the star's even closer
ordering the earthly mess
i want this to last forever

but when the autumn comes,
it leaves

i roll on my stomach
now head facing ground
the shadow stretches over
bringing the night around

my spine backs the darkness
besides sits forest hounds
i body sense the silence
you left without a sound

i cover up with moss
wary of being found
i hope low season passes

but when the living gets hard,
you know it's summertime

thief of a day

naked bulb lights
of a club
walls of which uncover
the mortar, the bricks and
the words of mortals

hey, they say.

at the wood, rubber
and stained glass
bar there stands
indefinite number of tired
movers and shakers

dance, they say.

stomachs filled with beer, vodka
and energizers
guts with dry shit
waiting for refill

pause, they say.

the mass of sound
cracks, rumbles,
drones through
dusty air
into the heads of all the
ears

swing, they say.

with my brown overcoat
sweaty everything
i walk up to a lady
by the bar
and with the bluest voice
i say:

i want to do something bad to you,
let me read you some poetry

through lack of light and the
loudness her curly head comes 
closer to me

as i'm ready to open
she says: i have a machine 
of a heart

don't ask further, she says,
and i do
while this little bit of silence
leaves unnoticed
and this little bit of light
is still heavy enough

i drop my overcoat
and take it to
the dance floor

the twitching, twerking, 
grinding and the necessary
pirouettes

as the laptop bounces
with the old damp
speakers
clipping

show me your hands, says no one.

she offers me a bottle
i grab it by the neck

drink, she says.

i swallow half the bottle
she laughs
then she stops
i start

and so we go on
'till the morning hours,
the random faces,
the bits of noise and dark
dissolve

hey, i say,

still good for some bad poetry?

but she says nothing

i look around and the
light is blinding,
can't see nothing,
i hear the bleep of a pulse

my hand reaches for it

thank you, i say.