Zenith
Stroke victim, a Polish man calling to Polaris,
played on a clarinet—it didn’t exist yet.
Winter’s first notes sent to praised planets,
building on each one a civilization… behind
each one, Polaris built pilgrimage capitols
where titanium pyramids rose lighthouses
shining eons through unseen worlds, tossing
radioisotopes far beyond solar alignments.
He played his clarinet music to excavate
past oval therapeutic galactic cores,
raise black holes increasing velocity horizon,
his music red shifting notes in string ambulance.
The Moon and galaxies held no special place
being pushed farther and faster away: each
one: flies faster the distance—
the lesser the audience, so be it.
The Milky Way elemental starry rivers
spilled shadows that never stopped bracketing
a humble backyard, melodiously bare, a balcony
of wood mass dark as space, human steps
attuned, inhaled/exhaled by human breath:
carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen of fertile flesh…
we – Earthly find subjective time to flow
singularly to and out of Earth. Convinced
all living had 12-beat stops, absolute
pause of coherent stews, original matter
weaving chemistry’s acquired accumulation
from hard rocks brought fore to life by flares.
Music builds right or wrong timed-colliding
notes. Which gay sounds colossally echoed
secreted minerals freaking left-hand dominance?
He’s a billion year exception playing E=mc2.
.
Stone Poetry Quarterly 