Year
we imitate the history
of sound and soul
but the notes go on
unconscious, an
orchestrated dream
of shhhh shhhh
in whistling
and baby trees
we feel the rays
of Sun pulsating
to bake our skin
in tanned effervescence
along a highway, silent
with whispers of just
our mind or was it
the wind fondling our hair?
in sudden traffic
the start, stopping
horns grind us
to powdered espresso
but we’ve reached the
business of clicking faxes
and printers and... do you dare
interrupt?
oh music of sand
or shape from chiseled granite
what new tunes have you played
into our memory’s ashes?
for once this land had cattle pounding
the plundered grass with hoof prints
and blood that danced in daisy chains
but now we feel just tiny tremors
and the swish, swishing
ferry pushes the river waves as
dogs hint of barking distance
and land creeps along the bow
Her eyes are dark and wet
her soul is out of tune;
etherized we sit beneath the moon
in discord’s false duet
but nothing more will happen
as I write and
drop
drop
my pen
the sound will
the sound will
fall
to the end