One theme. One poet. One memoirist.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

In This Loud House

As a special treat this week, we've asked a good friend of ours to contribute a poem

Mark Dennis Anderson was born and raised just beyond the western border of Minneapolis, where he fell in love with backyard exploration and peanut butter toast. A trained musician, Anderson currently works as a piano instructor and lives in Northeast Minneapolis with his partner and cat.


In This Loud House

They say rests are used in music for silence but I know better than that. Between staccato Gs and sforzando Ds, I hear a cough and a sigh. And what about the sound of pages turning, that paper cut sound that gives me the goosebumps? The composer didn't intend for that, did she? Silence is anything but silent though we may not always hear it; the sound of air streaming though a vent; the murmured gurgle of an empty stomach; the whistle of a teakettle, readying the morning; the cracking of knees, bending; the clink of a cup, hitting the table; the inevitable pause; a breathy semi-colon. I was once unsettled by your silence so I turned on the radio to drown you out. Now, in this loud house, I have grown to delight in your holy quietude and, when I listen closely, I hear you loving me.


  1. Mark, I love these lines: "the inevitable pause; a breathy semi-colon."

  2. Stunning, Mark. Thanks for guest blogging with us!

    "Silence is anything but silent." So very, very true.