Sounds and Scents, Noise and Stink

What you know of war is words.
What you know of what’s wrong is
What you’ve read, the wrong in states,

The wrong the wronged called your thoughts
To by reams of words you found
And read and weighed in your head.

What you know of life is not
The same as all that you’ve read
Or heard of life’s wrongs and rights.

What you know of life is small,
Like the weird hum comes at night
From the ground, you think, a pulse

You can’t get out of your head,
Like the dry smell of a lawn
Half dead at the start of spring.