Archive for Music and Science

Vignette 7

An African woman, hunched
a bit beneath her headdress
in cold, wrapped in a thin robe
and dress all patterned thoughtfully,
holds two frappuccinos
with caramel cream,
saccharine structures of
whipped ice, gold textured snow,
straws ready,
does not take a sip of either,
looks toward the grey
and snow-wet road,
seated west-facing
on the southbound bus,
calm, cool, steps off with ‘thank you,’
confident, accented Somalian…


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Night into Niebla

I came for the music
of salt laundering sand
and ancient, hourly trains.

There was something about
those cows,
leading their young

beside the cliffs,
bright sun making stark
the contrast

of black and white
on living hides.
I was wearing

everything but shoes,
had brought a small book
about shore birds,

and almost stumbled
as I came upon an object,
round as a planet

but inside out,
smooth throughout
with a rich, brilliant color–

the color of the face
of old men’s clocks,
of ashes nearly ripe,

the clothes
of puppet holders
or people unconceived.

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Revolution begins with spinning and blinking,
countless miles vanish into a traceless curve–

Eventually a year passes,
the clothes of the weak haven’t changed

And the sun casts us out again
flaming with laughter.

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