Poetry by Ann Jacobsen

In the silence

of the tunnels

mind over matter

abyss of being woken

I lie still can't believe

the silence until

the plastic cover rattles

from the chicken coop

next door

no snow, whitelight

not here today

maybe tomorrow

it is the silence,

the piss of power ,

makes me so awake.

A concrete block

along a road meant

to be beneficial

to whom is it ?

no silence just

quiet grumples,

from my head, not

silent, to the

twitched call of dawn.