Journal Moment

You said you'd never listened to Miles
And looked at the stars
Well, listen and I'll tell you not to look straight on
cause Miles deals with the peripery
Something that falls outside of vision
but can be seen between the dots of light
and spherecal music
rotation of line and form
and twist of theme

A breath and you're back again
To leap into the blue, ultra-marine blue
of sound and feeling
some physical acoutrement of music
a note, a noise of exhaling beauty

A pulse, a pattern
A repitition of line and meaning

This is what I see, what I feel
It's a light a guide to some shared experience
And I can feel what he feels
I can touch the things he touches
I am there in the music and I drift on
in quiet content reflection

Wordlessly I converse with the little things
Most of us forget about
The back ways and secret entrances
To some perception we mask and hide from others
behind quips, asides, a smart-ass remark

We live our lives like tourists
a gaze and a stare
a trip to some store to buy a reminder
of what we may have felt, or might have said
always undone, incomplete
We are not whole

We wander through experience without seeing
never take account for the black spaces
inbetween the reflected light
we gloss over and push back
and try to forget
but they come back, like ghosts

I like the noise they make
the creaks and whistles, the bells and booms
they are my padding, my protection