24/7 on I-75
Only herd
In the mourning
Quiet scarce
With the engines of freedom
Racing vicious cycles
In know way asking, “who cars?”
As you whirr
The buzz of the high way
The humdrum of civilization
The muffled rumble of capitalism
consumerism trucking along
For what too commute
A bird's eye spew
Of see oh too
Few
Know reason
Fore petroleum free way
This poem blends the high octane themes of noise pollution and petroleum pollution. I typically notice the rumble of traffic in the morning as I am waking up and lying in bed. This reminds me that silence really doesn't exist in urban settings; we just tune out background noises during the busyness of our daze. Passing my one-year anniversary without a car, I find automobiles and traffic increasingly alien to my preferred modes of being. Someday, I hope to live some place where deep silence is easily accessible. I suspect that the leisurely whispers of god may be best designed and intended for lovers of silence. As it stands, the earth seems more populated by riotous dudes. May you find the silent spaces in your life full, filling.
