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symphonic crawlers
SYMPHONIC CRAWLERS
Deaf tones overpower the mantra and the tempo,
the deafness of sonic crescendo
reaching 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 into 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 version-ified
truths-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 apple 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.
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