Baton keeps time

sweeping throws,

to the articulation

of musical diatribes

in a poetic note.


My ears awash

in the notes of broken crystal

are deafened to silence

at the first strum

first pluck, blow or tittle.


Drums bang

and infect my hearts rhythm

in a parade of classic tones

that wash my soul

in a fanciful dervish flight

spun on a wands tip.


Play on lords,

my hat dips

at a rising crescendo


in the rumbling breath

of bows beneath percussion

rising to peak…


by a snap-closed fist.


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