Stiller

It’s not still, but it’s stiller.
There’s no one’s music playing.
There are no screens in this room,

No pictures dancing around.
There’s a hum behind one wall.
It’s the middle of the day,

Autumn, but bright afternoon
On the desert canyon floor.
This light all comes from the sun,

Which guarantees constantly
Changing angles of the light—
Something you don’t think about

With lamplight, how fixed it is.
You also don’t notice how
Low noise feels without voices.

There are sounds but no voices
Here, now, which makes it quiet
Up to some blurry threshold.

And how still do you want it?
How close to motionless
Does the pretense need to hew

For it to be sufficient,
Near enough to Nevermind?
You doze off. Your sunlit dreams

Surface, livelier than life.
Good. Now simply stay up here,
Awake, where it’s quieter.