Streaming. Hearing Music in Color. Mosaic by Nutmeg Designs” by Margaret Almon (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Black Music

I tried to imitate
a jackdaw cawing through the murk,
a whispered squawk into the tremendous atramentous.

I read to search;
in reading I find, I find the old melodies;
those weary songs, winding words into an ever-vaster void.

I write to call, to dig
my heels desperately
into loamy flesh and caustic water,

my voice. My voice.
I haven’t yet found
the moon wafting above the water, I found

the foggy path to you is
fraught. Frightfully teetering, a taut
rope strung along our eggshell skulls,

and now you’re falling out
of the inky night, and my heels,
with a squelch, come undone. Undone
from meaning and I recognize

the echoes from my sulcusine canyons.
From these I extrapolate my intractable lines,
and my humming words flit across the mud
and into the gloom.

words without music,
black wings beat rhythmlessly
against my limp back.

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