The white noise of the motorway
in the distance
as I bike home from the City Gross supermarket
reveals its similarity to the collected soughing
of an ant mound in the forest
when you put your ear to it

All civilizations wheeze like this,
wherever there is a suiting atmosphere

I jump between magnitudes
like an electron 'tween shells

The fan in the bedroom
directs a flow of air towards me
like the Sun charged particles
towards the Earth,
when I hear Gerauschhersteller's rendering
of John Cage's Ryoanji
off set 22 of the 50 printed,
on this warm 26th May day

Some works of art
crave the right moment
to burst open

For me today is the right time for Ryoanji
with Stuart Riddle and his accomplices;
its swell relentless
on the Ithaka shores of this returnee