many see silence

as a canvas,

something waiting

for color,

for sound to arrive.

mine is already filled.

thousands of radios,

all almost tuned,

not quite,

pulling in different stations

at the same time.

i try to focus.

pick one voice.

but the others

cut in line,

clip sentences,

talk over,

fight to be heard.

i close my eyes.

stop everything.

try to clear it out.

to rest.

but the canvas doesn’t empty.

it spins,

noise over noise,

until even the idea of silence

is gone