Tonight this house speaks to me
through the creaking in the cupboards
and the refrigerator's humming.
Believe me, when this house shakes
under my feet
it isn't because of the train.
There's something in the basement.
I don't know what, I've never been there,
I'm afraid of the empty room
that leads to it.
Tonight I'm a hearing machine.
Beer bottles are crashing
in the dusty corners.
Even the spiders
are hesitant.
The crack in the ceiling
is a fissure in the brain
for all I know,
this kidney ache might be a sign
of rusty pipes, the cricket's
clicking has been the song
of my ventricles
all these years.
Thank God the water goes on at 2.
Then I sleep
while the plum tree drinks on,
a water full of sounds.
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Comments
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I love this poet's voice--I feel very comfortable recording him--thanks to all for the support
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You should hear the recording that Rhemasonador has done of this poem over at acidplanet.com Here is the link: www.acidplanet.com/Artist.asp?PID=681900&T=4668
If it doesn't work, type in Rhemasonador for "artist" on the homepage. I am so grateful to oldpoetry for providing Trejo's work; I wish there was a bio!
Nam, damn, where you been, man?
Edited on Nov 25, 3:18 because 'mispelled Rhemasonador'. -
There's this quiet tone to this piece, I read it another piece and expressed the same opinion, but there's this quiet tone that seems quite evident when reading, and it's a good thing I feel, it sets a particular mood for the reader, and I am sure for Trejo when he wrote this.
I like how he conveys how the house speaks to him and the goings on and description(s).
It's quite a piece I feel, a great piece that Trejo has written here.
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