- Vol. 05
- Chapter 11
In every vibrating sound
In every vibrating sound There is
heart. I am playing for you,
heart. When you rise to my
throat and find anguish to hear
in red, ruddy flesh
you’ll find the world is a pungent litany of distortions
of ghoulish vectors. Melting
superiorities. I like confusion when I’m not
confused. An old man told of the pendulum
swing away from the cleaner air.
How in dirty cultures we’re all poorer
& corruption is made of many clouds,
clouds high where we can’t touch.
How can you call
that air to breathe?