On Sound and Ecstasy

Call
to the ghosts
of old;
see blood skies unfold
with fire, smoke, and gold.
Yes call! Cry!
Behold
the thunder-truth
untold.

This,
linguistic music anarchy,
so sets the soul on fire, and free.
Musicians do their worst
they summon thunder from their thirst,
their passion;
civilized and savage,
hear the drums and strings and ravage,
stomping,
throbbing, singing, crying,
seeing demons and gods flying.
Music!
Painful passion! Ecstasy!
Feeling souls of body free,
yes feeling souls of body free
yes souls of body, wasting body,
souls of body free!

[1997]