Note

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As  an undertone slips slippery slips off the corner tip of your auricle, your ear, your appendage,

 It shatters against a wineglass, a windowpane,
Forgives itself as it dewdrops onto your memories,
Leaves footprints on your lane.

The lower tones, who said they can't be floral?
That they can't heal like a bandage?

How sweet is the grain,
Of an undertone that departs from a limelight viola,
A sound no more, it elicits a pant here and there,

And a million silver sighs,
It whispers to your core:
Music.

But you knew this.



 Mon. 04.08.2014 6:44
CCA Art Gallery, Andratx, Palma, Mallorca

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