photo credit: Bill Cottman

When It Disappears

I love music when it’s searching

When the sounds aren't sure

When one note connects   

Like family and new resolutions

Form through extempore solos

I love music when it’s copulating

When it’s out there on edge

When the Cats

Playing it are out there

Defying boundaries

Reaching for blue-green-lavender

Sound shapes

In splendor they move on vibes

Through darkness

Light  

Calculated shadows

Empty spaces               

In

Be

Tween

Rooted while oscillating

In baby’s breath

Flowing into other images

Like water into voluptuous

Wet bodies

Of spiritual transcendental          desire

Into bent notes and long tone aberrations

Urban lions as sound scientists

Take flight and climb naked air

Like sky walkers of round ball fame

Offering music like prayer

We wonder why they linger 

Why they never want to touch ground again

We wonder how flight was inspired

By a leather touch stone

I love music when it’s ephemeral 

I love music

I love music when it’s reaching

When it’s the sound of now

Then

Tomorrow

I love music when it’s the sound of

Going on

Inner sanctums found in isolation breathe voices

Telling stories of how

Of why of when

Of intermissions

I love music when

Its stories 

In different languages

Electronic tribal and acoustic sounds disappear

Like smoke from a stick of Night Queen

We dig it when it's gone

We dig it 'cause it's gone

Slandering certainty

Is music's revolution

Of cosmic ambiguity of

Cries of misremembered

Dismembered

Inspirations

Absurd laughter

Too hysterical to understand

Too terrible to analyze

Too grassroots to canonize

Too out

Too gone

Seeing it all and hearing it

The way somebody felt it

Makes music more incomprehensible

All my longing wants

To complete the circle

That by it’s nature is broken