electro acoustic head
when you love music too much
you will hear it all
the weaping of the first brute
to put lips onto a trophy skull
and make it sing with his breath
the electric jangle of the devil's fiddle
you'll understand vibration
and gratefully become
the surface of all music
your own scalp tightens
your teeth grind
you're up all night
curled around a keyhole in your heart
waiting
here come buddy's sticks of life
your finger tips tap-tapping on
your temples
your knees bouncing up and down
thrash-thrashing like buddy
here comes beethoven's left hand
inscribing a mandala of
stringed warriors
onto your bony plate
your own hand in the air
like joan of arc's
you can't cry fast enough
to keep up
with all the tears of joy
you will always be alone