Blues For A Dead Boy On The Ocean Floor

One more for Grant
more rocks in memory
on the floor of the ocean
deep down, every one knew you were lonely
but the tunes came swift
your father's watch was lost
like seasons to a clock
ringing out from the tower
but your voice beat the
years, like the ocean
and her torment
your death rings
like a gong
that reverberates over time
you died like water
you died like a dream
you died like shadows
cast on a stream
dyed in memory
barricading you with
candlelight and smokescreens
I twist myself
trying to understand
still don't know
what it means.

Callas Interpolation (grief for invisible sound)

hiss, crackles
rattles out of the
radiophoric stereo hero
trying to find the angle
removing the incorrect
jangles; a perfect mix
this drug I'll never kick
a magic trick
dance of deliverance
solace, tolerance.
wake to noise
silently lean into
the cracks in sound,
the bright sparkles
and loose flying particles
create a new myth
differentiated truth
never up to us
just sand through clear glass
bitterly stained
and invisibly toxic
bit rates, spin and vanish
infused metal
coated with varnish
memories never tarnish
but oxide breaths
breathe disease in between
tracks-warmer now in the autumn
leaning into trees,
jealous leaves not meant
to strike color
to strike a chord
disharmoniously in the cutting floor films
winds, divided, died in the wool
crushed in the hand
destroy the heart she said
drive the pain away
into the lonliness
of a single
dying sound.
the last breath
before a great voice
is silenced.
(and
when
her
body
is
dead
her
song's
spirit
will
rise
up
and
out
of
her
mouth
like
a
great
hunter
and
escape
in
to
the
winds
to
fill
the
lungs
and
fuel
the
breaths
of
every
singer
everywhere
ever)