Calling the Black

As the curtain
falls to pool,
a silent reverie
falls to ground

Amputated in
thralls hold,
the bereft
wandered
in Netherlands,
subsisting
on remembered be-fores,
spotlights and sweat-ed
applause

'Break a leg'
is what they say
but diminished spirits
from crushing critics
ever smashing
to review,
all hope,
dashed
and newspapers
flutter on fences,
cruel proclamations
and opinions
now today's
garbage,
remembering
ones discontent

Ringing from cords
while lungs grasp for air,
and in the rapture
of feeling
is the glamour,
of one string
feathering to vibrate,
all dimensions
of time

In claps of applause
are leads of rapture,
now connected,
the universes
symphony
starts transmitting

Black curtains
in time,
opened to infinity
and applause
reverberated,
in One
kettle
drum