•BLOGGING STRONG SINCE 2008•
7/02

The Music of Moving Furniture

By David Peak

the people downstairs, they
make the music of moving furniture.
loud sighs like the legs of tables
scraping sunken wood floors.
we listen to them. lying in our bed.
you, nestled in the crook of my arm,
sighing, the radiator hissing. the snow,
outside falling. night time radios
tuned to the stations in between
the stations, sounding like all the comfort
we know.
all the comfort to be had, to be kept.
our distractions so focused. not on us,
but on the people downstairs. the people
we’ve never met, never wanted to meet.

_________________________________

David Peak is the author of a novel, The Rocket’s Red Glare (Leucrota Press), a book of poems, Surface Tension (BlazeVOX Books), and a chapbook, Museum of Fucked (Warm Milk Press). He lives in New York City and blogs at davidpeak.blogspot.com.

3 Comments
Mel Bosworth said:

nice. peak makes nice music.

PANK Blog / July Is Almost As Hot As PANK Writers said:

[...] The Music of Moving Furniture by David Peak at Dark [...]

Dulcina said:

That’s why furniture is also called “movables” :)))
The Music of Moving Movables!
Thanks for sharing this delicious poem, David.
You call noises from furniture music… well, what is music but pleasant noises?
The sound of rain is music.
The sound of a baby laughing is music.
The sound of your lover’s steps coming is music.
But when someone dislikes some kind of music he says “this isn’t music, it’s just noises!”
Maybe, considering that everything has got its good side, instead of getting angry at the noises your neighbours were making moving the furniture, you have been listening to their music.
After reading your poem I have imagined an orchestra formed by different pieces of furniture playing “The Symphony of Movables”: chairs, stools and shelves were the wood; the washing machine, the fridge and the microwave, the metal, and finally ancient radios, puffs and tables ,the skin.
Happy New Year!
:)

Add A Comment