Do not stop to pack bags

 

Roll on
roll off
loop this sound
endlessly
in the open shut
infinite legato
blink your eyes
cardboard cutout
propped against the wall
you are hidden
can’t see it coming
go visible
no longer gaussian blurred
no longer concealed
aiming to be perfect
the pen hovers over you
multiple choice
moves on
always moving on
without anchor
launched frozen waste
into
blank space

Where is it alright?

At work
they say
you can’t sing
while the phones are on
those tiny pulses
break me out in ambilateral fusions
down the lines cold lava
keep your mouth shut[down]
or the children will fall down
and spoil their pretty hair

on the crouched busses
music is not allowed
there are signs
we used to hang from
the monkey bars
undulant rider soundwaves
scream the name of the station
happiness, ulceration, earthquake zone, plastic wrap
you must sit with your mouth closed
polyethylene doll

out on the streets
you may abuse your loved one
while the dark hides under the horizon
carve threats and spray wars
leave threatening messages
drape yourself in cured flesh
you should not sing
even close harmony
tubular bells
screech along the delicate
tendrils of the proper noun
we clutch at shame in emotion
search for it
in reflected streetlights
the slight hint of moisture on your skin
hairline faults in
the network stretched out across us
drying and shrinking
withering
the heat generated by
potential difference
broad outside smiles
claws inside

Forest Music

The snare snap of twigs
Comes rolling over the forest
Cicadas shake rattles
Pick up teacups and drop them like cowbells onto dry ground.
The thud of running heart kicks out
As small things scurry
From bears with teeth that gnash a cymbal crash

At the edge of a clearing
The wolf is outlined
In a chorus pedal howl.
Now the insects are circling
The light distorted by their wings
A snake strikes down
Plugging the critters to the roots
Mouth leads to treble crunch and silence.

Large hearts are turning over out there
Inaudible in low frequency murmur
As the mice can scurry in and out and breed and eat
Between each beat
Each visible vibration
Linking a circuit between forest and fur

Music Theory for the Bored and Confused

Who gave music its name?
It was Boethius, tinkering with treble and bass
The screwdrivers of sound
Falling in piles and arpeggios
He broke up the Romans into
Seven strokes of a brush
Seven notes black as pine
Rushing towards a stop
As brittle as an empire

And who placed the notes on the lines
Stuck them there
With his tongue lolling from his mouth?
Italy’s sheepdog
Guido D’Arezzo
Symbolist entrepreneur
Lover of paste and water:
He carries the notes to the vine
And pushes them in
Like God making grapes

Word Games #3

This one had words that were a little easier, so I decided to write one line per word and do them in order…

 

count down from ten
a sketch, a skein of words
a sinfonietta, those sounds you make
a
poem in hues and cries, in wounds and words
to make me a wooden bridge
all share and shimmer, clip and curl
til I am lost between the notes, foetal between the words
this dance trails us, writers of sound
just glimpses, crystalline, frost on a black pavement, dissolved by a breath