The cops were here for a minute
I'm afraid of the shaking main - left side
Miho - not famous and drawing bigger than expected
Is pointing, her arms like whips, body ghostially
Under our fluorescent lamp
That's stage lighting
This isn't loud?
MY ears are too full of rigor and cum
meta-cum-laude
I've decorated my life
Like musicians aught to do
But not necessarily
The Kinds of musicians that
I want to be
I am my senses
among Other Things
Some of them are decoractions
Which I sense
Ugly, clashing, unmatched
And the music in the katch
Riled, strident, complex
Wound up around abstractions
Of concepts designed
To Make physicality
Comprehendable.
Words don't do that.
Words are music.
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