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