Louder.

Birge Harrison, Tunnel of Trees in Winter, n/d

JANUARY

Again I reply to the triple winds

running chromatic fifths of derision

outside my window:

                                  Play louder.

You will not succeed. I am

bound more to my sentences

the more you batter at me

to follow you.

                                  And the wind,

as before, fingers perfectly

its derisive music.

William Carlos Williams