Symphonic crawlers

Deaf tones overpower the mantra and the tempo,

the deafness of sonic crescendo

unsupressed reaches anthemic highs,

operatic foraging and improvisational tuning

crawling through the neurons

vying for pathways of comedic attenuation inside

the vault of perception

pulling fiercely over the conduit of my

sharply focused, surrounding-ly audible

sound-scape, to feel bacchanal-iac, to feel in

abandon, to sip in the smooth oscillation

from the invisible sweep of forgetful notes;

mother-of-pearl plums we squeezed-

batches of ocher to add hue to our

eyelids and the versioni-ified

truths-as-based-on-text-as-based-on-word,

I—horrified—seem

not to notice, not to grasp: non-breathing,

dark, the schematics that are appropriate

for the harmonic undulations of what music brings

in the curve of distortion. It is not hard to

snap rotten walnut notes off their tender twigs

the vice of death in broken, flailing arms.

We are trapped in temptations of perception--

Liquid flow, slow brushes of strings

melodiously flying over grit,

A solitary string would never be able to

reach the richness of a set of vibrating strings,

thus I improvised in ways to harvest more

anechoic black holes out of the drum set

banging away unpredictable, but pleasant,

phonemes, the booms of doom

baritones of fantastic solos of lava, the

gloomy boulder of sound stopped--

the wings of violin, the wings of trees, the wings of

concave graphs your vision interprets hastily-

And yet, your have never had your fill of distortion,

never enough to chew, never enough pigment.

Yellow-green incubators your carved

out of local magma, soil-in-cloud

Turquoise above the ground, shape the

phonemes you painted so far.

Searching for that harmonica beneath

the thick frequencies of the deep voice

coming off rogue, modulation lost in the

din of the ear’s cochlear--

A resonator that sculpts the inner fantasies

of the acoustic chamber of the brain.

The syntax of maneuvering meaning out of

the channel of abstraction cannot be filtered

antennas that protrude into the

pores of unresolved entropic tentacles

Vibrations higher than the highest string,

under bow and hyper bow.

When is the voice void? Polyphony of the beating heart,

the speech unsealed in the numbed mouth.

Jingling in symphony so clarion that the futile

groan was let out with a bitter heave.