Heartbeat is hardly accompaniment
I would kick her out of the band really unless she could be raised and glorified.
Open the drums, thank God for the upstroke- the release before
When we hear the vibration and lift the sticks
and hammer even the fine veil of this precious world.
Remember when I drummed?
I did not drum.
I may tap a finger in not intervals, until they are a melody
of the horse’s neigh on High,
Drumming only of porcupines.
Flutes and harpstrings are drums.
Drumming on her joke
That if you hear her is not.
If you listen,
This silence is the rhythm between centuries
And she is waiting to tap a sensual rhythm inside you.
I save my drumming for harp strings.
So when things start giving birth the miraculous wellness what happens is this:
The breath of the Moment. Inescapable and exquisite pleas
She may say something
