top of page
Search

White Noise

  • Writer: Cole Barrios
    Cole Barrios
  • Jun 10, 2024
  • 1 min read

The fan whirred softly.

I recognized the hum; a noise

That could only be heard

In absence; a love

Felt most strongly

In absence; a consciousness

That could only exist

In absence. And the motor—

Its muted, rhythmic beats

Broke. And he cried.



For my father, and his brothers.


 
 
 

Recent Posts

See All
little red strip mall

Tell me it’s getting late. Know, please. Don’t look, just know. We’re at the bottom of a pool or in an aged motel— A rock or your little finger skips across Yellowed walls and bodies  itch or buzz flu

 
 
 
Pumpkin Foam

It was a hollow red, and it smelled like burning, and it crusted over leaf-tips on stems in pots.              If they were real, and not...

 
 
 

Comments


bottom of page