In a room filled with poets

thick blue sky cuts
around aluminum building where
lights blink on or wink off,
sometimes both
on, off, on, sizzle,
off
whereas here
only voices exist: talking
clearly without meaning/ or
muffled by walls
beyond meaning but
compellingly loud/ or
just coughing, rasp, coughing.
sometimes bodies
shift, groan,
massive movement of molecules,
muscles and juices. meanwhile
voices
asking questions, reading dreams,
‘aldo & tragedy’
‘this is david mmmfrey’
‘people parties’
plodding into a mike,
poured out into
the thick blue sky
cut off by aluminum buildings