276.
There is a cello at the bottom of the
spine
that is how Europe got here so deep
why Tiepolo painted the actual sky
above an ordinary me
we are embedded in what we thought we
knew
people greeking language under my
hands
I’m not talking culture I’m talking
neurology
the complex music of our simple meat
lift up the manhole covers see who we
are
cables and sewers information overflow
I am the conduit of the impersonal
can’t forget Nora splashing in the
surf at Rockaway
so much the worse for me.
277.
On the glass face of the device the
window birds reflected
pass over the house so short is music
music is an accident happened to the
air
ergo bird bassoon the bells of Judson
Church
but mostly this little mirror in my
hand
shows the arcane image of each sound
what we look like when we hear the
cardinal chirp
what the crow means in soaring
without sound
over my poor house! personal again
the complicated negotiations in a
dream
a wise old Jewish man without a word
pointed to fried chicken that’s the
piece for you.
