Been a while
since we spoke
of such things
peeling eyes
around thoughts
we circle
in whitespace
and voltrons
sometimes
we are stellar
sometimes
we are sand
and then
we are
gone.
This is where the rhythm is
this soft pushed bounce before the strokes
this snapping beat and accent too
inviting ghosts of crack and groove
and how my vantage swoops to dash.
This is air this rhythm fizz
this friction heat this hot-coal stoke
this movement out and pocket in
enticing hosts with smack and move
and low my hinted pulse is hatched.
This is prayer soft this rhythm is
this once hushed ounce now pounded smoke
this balanced reap, these payments due
these marks excising rough with smooth
and now, a vintage Zildjian splash.
Now
you know
I know you know.
You know
I know
you know I know.
I know you
now.
We swam out and said come on in.
and so they did but where are we?
Still swimming, still dreaming, still?
The trouble I believe is ours not theirs
and now we must admit we do not know -
what shall we do? What happens next?
Let us follow on awhile and see.