LSG 5/27/2010
Music is the epitome of something said
By saints and devils
Into the spaces where we cannot see them uttering
Magic words
And magic works
Lofty pieces of trash
That love themselves
My music has a tree running through the center of its nervous body
Love loves fingers and metal and coarse hair on a young man
My pieces of fate lend themselves
To nothing.
What does art mean?
I wonder while whispers
Come from the sideways places
This Orangutan is staring at me through time
This walrus
This ship made of steel
Do whales sing like bass players?
Or do drummers play Like whales?
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