Thursday, July 05, 2007

It Dreams of the Death of the Wurlitzer

We are in charge & the day is long.

Organ music over Formica,

Forsythia. Hour after hour

The day is long. We are in charge.

There is no finish to the flooring,

No finish here. We are in charge

Of the organ

Music. Long over the floors. The day

Is long. Over the music. We are

In charge.

I can’t look over this

Awning any more. The light is loose

Corn among the bricks. I’m not in charge

Of them. Their sounds are loose

Like tongues in the wind. Reed born

Vessels of air, humming light, open

Lungs, the breath of steam and yellow

Light, we are in charge.

The light is long.

I can’t hear

The vacuum any more

You must be done. Earth & organs.

The music in length,

The length of music.

A trombonist at the window

Counting the length of light.

Repeat. Come back

Into the dark. Leave into the light.

Hours. The day is long. We are

In charge.


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