the sound thread... add your own sound
wind
something i almost recall some hunting bird skimming low over the road and vanishing |
sleep
Ah, sleep. The whir, the beep. The purr, the creep, Asleep. The deep, a sweep, the beep. |
the forest fire creeping toward me.
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quiet
in the quiet of early dawn the wild raspberries you gathered from the light crumple and fold in the basement, crumple and fold to sweet solent, perfect gravity. |
^ that's beautiful, Mr Zerö :)
keyboard somniferous clack clack clack clack clack tripping clackaclackaclack energetic CLACK slow c l a c k c l a c k c l a c k staccato clack clack clack |
Morning
Hummingbirds and honeysuckles, beetles breeze by small feet running on dawn-gleaming dew. |
the slight rustle of clothes and pop of the wrist at 7:30
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clock
tick setting her homework aside she stops to listen alone in herself and thinking in the lull of all her future lives: newlywed; old or travelling on somewhere to a fresh beginning tock |
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,
night : i'm 11 : a short wave radio is hidden under my pillow static. faint voices. seven slow, monotonous tones. a pause. suddenly, you hear music—one of those children's wind-up songs played by an ice cream van. the melody repeats three times. a pause. suddenly, you hear a female voice counting off the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0 in german. a pause. she repeats the numbers. a pause. the toy melody returns..... |
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the quintessential victorianness of the ophicleide
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de kerschrunk kempftuflet kremptschlittingly recknovum.
it did i tell you. |
black ice in a white-out.
The passengers in the car inhale sharply together, as if for the last time. The soft swish of slush, a 360 spin into oncoming traffic. Hearts thud in slow motion. The driver murmurs "wheeeeeee." |
birdsong
mingling with rain echoes in the sky behind our eyes lost in speech and silence, blackbird darker than windfalls soft as the dimming of embers. |
The ring of the shovel blade as it clears expanses of exposed aggregate in the otherwise unearthly quiet of a frozen winter afternoon.
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equine stirring of straw
at breakfast the grain scoop in the sack words of love, sometimes. |
port lligat '94
all afternoon the sung world comes to its senses: flickers of light in the trees, pixels of warmth, skitter of geckos crossing a dry stone wall. i find the threaded pebble and the listening shell. |
construction site
background humming, clanging, pounding, shouting, creating the golden monstrosity in slow motion. |
yew glade, kingley vale
where gas-blue eyes close upon this country of mile-deep woods and all thinking has stopped like the calm at the edge of a snowfall |
Loudspeaker Announcement Lady of Ostbahnhof
I know you are a recorded voice mixed together in fragments by a computer but you sound lovely and warm to my ears if I were a man or lesbian I'd want to marry you right away you sooth me whenever trains are 20 minutes late or fail to go at all it's simply nice to know you and I know you're beautiful! - ah well, maybe not so sexy than the real-time Announcement Lady they sometimes have at Ostkreuz, but that's OK. |
* ZING !! *
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POW !!
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//// GGZZZZzzzztttzTT ///
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^^^ street work? or what? :(
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Quote:
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mute
cob and pen, burnes abandoned boatyard. slack water, when the god of silt and shipwrecks murmurs across the ebb tide. nightfall, and the gloaming on the slipway settles down to just that shade of blue where everything that's lost is rendered visible. |
road trip
sun in my eyes radio's playing tunes on the asphalt zooming in my car vrooming in 5th gear and i am singing |
pause
living caesura. more than the sum of my parts. i'm waiting for the limbo of a life that goes without saying, in a circle in the sand of blackened wood where someone has stopped before now to light a fire. the angel of the roads maybe,or the panic of standstills. |
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dawn
soft cold damp air on my skin, cows greet me the sky turns red, shadows appear in the reeds the trees, the cows, then my own good morning, let us greet each other. the river never stops. |
bush crickets call
katy did, katy didn't; in the world of small things, big things can happen. |
chainsaw
ROOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RR
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ *wuh? wah?* |
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my three coins strike tin in the honesty-box at black dog nursery |
The distinct thudless expanse of the other shoe not dropping
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sudden, exciting chatter of jackdaws in the big tree across the street
just as sudden, flapping wings and silence |
The white sussuration of the furnace fan at the registers
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break off two icicles
percuss them together listen icicles sound twicicles as nicicles |
the soft drawn-out splash as the goose makes landing on water
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