• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 12
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Globetrotting in six keys

Around the world wishing to be
By means of water or soil would I go?
Round my home. Silk roads that bridged
the East to the West. Seidenstraße

They once called my path. Paved
With urban stones. In number
count ‘em thirty six. Geographically puzzled
to tell their west from their east. After all

What would east-west mean without
a reference point. Mine long ago
submerged in the turquoise water
where sounds travel faster.

No wonder Johan Sebastian
was called Bach. Bach for brook,
stream of water dancing to the varying
Rhythms. Allemande (german turn),

sarabande. A spanish slowdown. Courante
a french run, mergin’ to a beautiful current
not missing a beat. Beating down
Borders- Joshua style! Not singularly

One-off potent as a trumpet, maybe
albeit equally effective. My wooden
 wonder of a Cello. My home I carry
 like a tortoise. Its keys in major, minor sounds.