top of page

Anechoic Chamber (Hank Andover: Newspaper Writer and Author of Books)

From an alley of open doors

Into a compartment of closed doors and ink wells

All you saw before entering trails

in sensory traces and stops at the stoop.

You, a man with no name, walk into a room with no people

anticipating the pushing of a button:

compelling the singing, or wanking of a bell or buzzer.

The outside door had no lock,

the inside tells no reason why it would need one

And there is no smell to speak of.

Maybe that’s telling.

If a picture’s worth so many words

a place must be worth millions;

Perhaps this newsroom is without readers;

facing stagnation and eventual extinction

There is barely any air where you stand

and you can quite literally hear your blood course

in this anechoic chamber.

The silence seems like it’s listening to the other side of the door

And there must be a bustle on the other side.

Every movie you’ve ever seen having a newsroom,

including His Girl Friday

-the flick your mother forced you to watch on your layoff-

depicts the unsound, unsealed offices and cacophony.

You’ve written articles, essays, ads, and poetry,

promotionals, leaflets, handouts, synopses;

and wouldn’t you like to slide in an envelope under that door

and have a look at what your life could be, rather than

walk through it when the bell rings, wanks, or buzzes?

It’s uncomfortable, paperboy

Will you join it?

The tearing, scrounging man-machine;

the system of shambles and kerosene lamps-

Parchment packers, ink fingers, typewriters,

paper eaters, lemon-sippers, and doormats.

Which side of the door shall you be on?

You know that the walking through that door

and the shaking of hands,

handing over the portfolio under your arm

May result in:

"Hank Andover- Newspaper Writer and Author of Books"





Mr. Andover, please come in.

"Anechoic Chamber (Hank Andover: Newspaper Writer and Author of Books)" by Nina Ricci ©2015 All Rights Reserved

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All
bottom of page