cuban/oldie.

why talk about music, anyway? a
book full of sheets to the wind
and hymnlike strains repeating,
the fluid is nice.. chopping up
my body to put it on a page can

get tedious if i'm made of any-
thing less luminous: high-grade
low spark, hacking like a spade
and breaking up fallow ground--
technically, nothing is memora-

ble or past-tense, as if flames
were wrapped around you like so
many swaddling sheets, and may-
be you call yourself a genius &
you're always right, sometimes;

anyway the repetitive nature of
prescription covers up the vib-
ration like israel and acoustic
clarity, i can say "anyway" and
mean it because i've treaded an

absolute & infinite eternity of
paths recursively, occasionally
and it's really good! headacher
minstrel won't let me hold this
instrument, and in responsibil-

ity i plan out series of themes
that can be held in the hands..
frames upon samplers with money
changing faces, you had to walk
so hard that you bled, goodbye.