the first time i saw you
standing under the rhomboid sun
rosewood and petal moss
little dapples of faded light
your machinery played on and on
and the music travelled in a straight line
picking up velocity and ferocity
notes you had released from the spellish air
as i touched you milesaway
as my fingers burrowed under the veneer
as i approached you in rapid suggestion
dont look at my music so closely you indicated
dont handle my appearance with your eyes
i am not for looking at
undismayed i undid what i had done
how my hands lingered on your softest symphony
how i unfastened the tiny chords binding
how i sang my own song deeper into your neck
all the time
flowers blooming in the misty rain
the vegetation is moist and ready
the streaming of constant flood
the entered entrance
an underground sea
a succession of notes ascenting
a blizzard of icy trumpet blasts
percolating percussion
oh your song streaks towards end of dawn
oh your song maintains its orbit around the sun
oh your song makes me want to fuck the day
oh your song has me hard and so fast
oh your song…..who wrote those words for you
who sat down and went through it over and over
who made you have slightly return
who banged out them lines baby
who gauged your gun and shot off a message
who dallied around the exit waiting for you to come
who showed you how that note was sung
oh your song is a song of surprise
who forced you to fade it out
oh you sing a lot of song for me you said
oh you sing a lot of fucking song baby child creature
do you worship the moon in its pink aureole
do you meddle with your settings ever
do you reassign love thus so easy
oh you sing a lot of nature
oh you sing a lot of creation
oh you sang this world into being
yes you sang
i sing my song forever
for all possible lovers
for the seekers
and for the dead
why do i sing for the dead you sang
can they still hear you sang in answer
listen listen listen a chorus of hushed voices
listen the dead listen she sang
the sweetest voice among them appeared
the dead dont listen yet they cant help but hear
he or she sang in a voice of glass and thorn and silver
the dead were hearing the song and some were answering
some were too sleepy and could not be bothered
some became the effulgence around the bursting moon
some became a ripple of semi quavers breathed on a flute
some became the thud of a drum
some spoke within quickening harp like sighs
oh you sing a lot of dead songs you dead they sang to each other
oh baby lets hasten away from here the dead all sang
and they smiled at you and you answer them in your song
oh baby dont make me die all over again
and this made the dead cry
and they answered you back in their own way
in their own song
and a mans voice burst through their mix
a mans voice singinging like honey
a mans voice sang from long ago
a mans voice so beautiful keening in the darkness
oh his wordless song
oh he sings a lot of song of life and death and life
oh he sings wordlessly of his own death
oh he sings so distantly
oh he sings an elegy for life
oh who wrote those wordless songs
oh who lets him burst in upon the other voices
sshh now listen you sang in my ear
sshh now the dead will listen to him too you whispered like a song
and what of the living i sang back
i sang back to all of them
and what of the living
short time living
long time dead
they sang back sadly
they sang as if in answer to my song
why did you sing that song you sang in whispers
the dead watched me sadly from their differences
the homeless dead finally finding a home
the rich dead
the poor dead
the singing dead
the sleeping dead
the dawn was finishing
and you sang now i must be leaving
and you sang that you were starving
and you sang that you were living
and you sang that you were singing
then the voices one by one they all faded
faded down and away away away
i only heard my own inside my ear
buzzing like a trapped thing
whispering singing questioning
sing another song it tried to say
sing another song? i said
sing another song to day