A Throatpierced Sound in the Night

by April 1, 2015 0 comments

lonely as america
guttural cries
no one hears

Miles blows translucent blue melodies
snare keeps time with double bass
piano for continuity
psychic feelers come back empty
no one listens

down fall the masks
muted slow arpeggios cover faces
behind stone curtains
no one cares

dark pursed lips press against
silver mouthpiece
fingers stab valves
air beats against me while
no one watches

inside my ash covered space
long, outheld notes cross time
whines sprinkle up a staircase of stars
slow soft keys whisper
no one’s there

up against the wall
then the resolution comes
a free ringing trumpet tone
sponges my face, bathes my body
in liquid timbre of relief that
no one feels

dare not peek behind the curtain
to see the man behind the magic
we all play roles in this masquerade
our secret sins equal out with age
no one knows

there is no great listener in heaven or on earth
just a call and answer, sometimes only a call
frequencies shared too often grow tedious
can a lifetime of unison even be bearable?
no one holds

maybe belief runs across this great Beat path
carved from interminable sand
constant sun and shaky fluorescents
cast everlong shadows on every bump and pebble
no one sees

editors note:

Bleak and bold, america – everywhere; no one! – mh

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