more than music is grasped that

When tumbled in a puddle of musical pace

the aural infinity of rosewood and brass

is a gamelan curry grooved sweet with beat,

a pantheon picked a whole tone to chose

than can be fingered away in blistered grace.

The fingering of the work crew sprayed

as graffiti glyphs cemented on yellow mark

a squat pallet of ash stacked by the elms

and hoops of tubing wrapped clear in blues

to slicken the slippery frets again rained

away from a silver string devoid of beads

towards the bird chirp surviving night,

plump zombies in baggy shorts and gloom

with no RSVPs pending for this party of twos

cerebralizing the rarity of death by weeds.

There is a fear buried so deep

it is no longer a gate to bliss,

a brown handle filigree

ruined a hint of orange

that leaves it just short

of the rust that squeaks

by the OM scribbled in tar

on the road by the creek

near where that real gone man

rose sheep in quarter time beats,

long bleats after the subdivisions

evolved into a sharp fungal creep,

a twisted rim and rusted frame

a caution chord for the trickster

on the sunbaked concrete isle:

pink of must the blossom drops

and the miller sails away.