The Protean Noise

“Be nothing, represent nothing
be beautifully indeterminate, bent
but profusely protean like the noise”
                Sudeep Adhikari


Wake to the glass-gray noise of rain,
blue-black noise of cars gushing

through slick streets, early morning
traffic speeding yellow-red through

the silver city’s heart. Wake to dragon
cries of thunder, black boulder of sound.

Here is a man shouting at a purple boy,
a girl leaping puddles in her scarlet

boots, a couple arguing brown words
as they fumble into a taxi’s cinnamon

lips, bright green umbrellas crossed
like flimsy swords. Hear orange

footsteps rushing for the bus, the door’s
pneumatic groan, a curse, some static

from a set of earphones, a pencil
tap-tap-tapping on the back of your seat.

Somewhere in the folds of your mind,
a butterfly – tiny fanning of those black

and orange wings, a cathedral built
and buttressed from dusty stones of noise.

Steve Klepetar

If you have any comments on this poem, Steve Klepetar would be pleased to hear from you.