Poemetry by T.A. Barnhart


it’s noisy as hell
here in my head
and the endless drone
of endless traffic
and the fan in the window
to chill the stale warmth
of late summer overnight
in this little bit of space
i guess i call home –
it’s noisy as hell
but i have heard silence
that would drown this out.

©TA Barnhart August 25, 2023