ahead, enveloped as networks
of rebar. Where you are, mountains.
Now, say we put it, Brooklyn,
yr bricks & stairs staring down
& door swung open & this instrument
w. two ropes. You are important music, you
are. These keys cd never touch yr fingers
or find yr graces in their notes, twirl yr dances
or mix yr banjo. Tough like elegance.
Skin kissed by leather & cowboy boots
on Tribeca cobblestones, tough like leaving.
Yr sea to Arizona, yr life to wind when stars
fell on Alabama you fell all in. Clouds like cotton
candy over continental divide, pink puddles
cdn’t hear yr notes if we didn’t drag
this mother up.