I couldn't pass by this pregnancy of mind
marking the path with the pitch and clamor
of music gone wild.
No, Couldn't hold my breath long enough
to swim under the clouds
holding the promise of thunder,
or the tree-lined silk of cascading thought,
whose sound-waves troubled the wind
with a harmony that filled the rivers
and drowned the paper and plastic
of more than I know of time,
hiding the glorious moon with its smoldering
wet halo.
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