good words

a current, undeniably me

in a minor
key, turning circles
in dissonant
harmony
constituent melody, twitching
furtively the quavering vowel
of overtone in independent
integrity

a lyrical movement, its modes unspoken,
measure by measure, tongues unevenly ringing,
voices beyond us, breathing with meaning

now reverberates undeniably,
now oscillates uncontrollably,
now brassily swaggers,
now nasal, now sanguine,

the River

the River is music,
thrumming and humming, silent, the Giant;
passing the banks by, asleep in the morning,
the Body is golden in mist o’erflowing,
a symphony of song,
a cadence of dream,

at rest, transposition,
the timbre, the Key,
heart by beating heart, We sing

and our verse is instiflable,
our chorus, crescendo,
the People We singing,
our words are a window:

a nation, a notion of clamber our
words ineffably dream the sky overspun
with intricate rhythms and cleverest feet,
clogging in unison, oh melodious pipe,
oh singer of songs, oh bringer of dreams,
we beseech thee and lament the loss of our callow youth,
our wisened sages, and all the inkhorn flowers between,
we regret, so somberly, that we forget we live,
that we forget we love.

how we fiddle our tongues and think it music,
we silly race, we silly animal
we silly We


thank you.