Slight of voice

The tone of pounding heavy footsteps in solid structures
i repeat these loops in my brain
changing the duration and intensity of each banging.
running men, children. walking, jumping.

it can become the rhthym in the background of songs
echoing, your head in the pillow onthe bed attached to the house
where the thumping began

or the way a heart would pound in a metal box.
tin man. crying out at his first beating.
in hollow empty spaces.

searching for other sounds.
cars movements on causeways.
like paper tearing slowly
wind movements in peaceful weather areas.

i know in albuquerque. negtive ions from pacific gails
twist and maneuver through cracks
down into you and sneak their voices
like a sliver lodged into your spine. preventing sleep
signaling the spring.

dusty...yellow. sagey spring.
when the wind subsided. the flat expanses between mountains filled
with yellows, lavendars, and reds...
brief rainbows quilting brown dingy green expanses.

between the sounds of thumping
and the pierces of ancient gales.
my body is trickling with kinetic
memories that lower me down
into the rich thick mud.