(The Makings Of The Maker Make Themselves)

It led me away

Out of pure convenience

To breath in four, four time

See the trees in tone, stroke and line

Leaves in pastels

Bark in charcoal

Life to the tune of dilapidated vocals

While I blink to the pulse of a drum

(As a full string orchestra

Commands children to throw tantrums

To the rise

And the fall

Of a violin bow)

Each click a photograph to create a flipbook

To prevent my going blind

And all the while the sidewalk falls behind

Each brick a key on a city owned piano

Painted in the whites of my eyes

(Forbidden are the movie scenes

Where children dance on songs

Choreographed

In freedom

Removed by disuse)

Press the veins if you'd like to hear something high

While I listen with my sight