New Music

.forHarryPartch, DerekJones, & my better self.

Chip-Chop-Sand-Coat
In my hand, float
in my hand.

You speak no new words,
but exude excitement about experience
and its context.
Embrace this
this
this
plurality,
dear.

A man replacing dirt
falling in the ocean
dancing
with Indians
and brush cloud

How do you live, sweet song,
if not in my mouth
and my fingertips,
if not in my ears.

And the answer is that you live in dreams
of the status-seeking
as a rambling man
a home-bum
tramp
hobo
stockpiling sounds
and essential human experience.

Flip flop
Hip Drop
time stops
when you don't.