poem
With light grips
Rain swishes brush sticks
Tapping on last
Night’s roof
Orchestral oak leaves
Occasional swell of cymbals
Composed by chance —
Abstract
An improv film score for the
Out of it
Half step asleep
Quarter note dreaming
Measure after measure
Meter unchanging
Then comes a subtle coda
Repeating from the shadows
And on and on and on and on
And on and on it goes
Until gray light
Lifts its morning eyelids—
Still the song never stops
A dull replay
Echoes down gutters
Skipping like a broken record
Dribbling on vinyl umbrellas
Clutched by sullen dog walkers
Who don’t get this thing
Called music
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