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La Fenice

you are dead now i do not deny this
i have never traveled that far
but for in my mind
i have never been to see you
never groped your loins
never grasped your voice
looking upward i give the hot sky
devil's horns
my 2 fingers tearing eye
of radiance
as i curse as usual whatever
useless being
got me into this mess
you were hurt so
even the criminal that did this
would not deny
orchestra  soloist  arsonist
no one could say no to you
even the criminal must have known
your audible personal
song
the internal harmonies
of your perfect acoustic
heart

history is an element made up of smuggled out takes
would that the wood tell all
i am poet who plays the lyre
while seeking the truth of life

you
gypsy violin
leave your tent for awhile
travel across the canal
to the place of birthing
forget your discord & grief
for a moment
pick up your bow
the hot sky turned night
is waiting

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