Still going, all of it, still crowing!
(Ears to speakers, that sound of
The sky when it meets the sea!)
Tamed by noise, enormous airs
Grasp at a strangled voce machine.
A final tune, rigidly bangs where
The pleasures of music burn.
Still going, all of it, still flowing-.
The groups, the skiffling hands!
I search for sand and find a
Seaside pearled with purple tones.
The clear water smooths pebbles
With proud tunes roving from
The tunes of a dune-moon. Is it
Sense to find a radio attuned
To the shriekings of jazz-rain?
Still going, all of it, still going!
(Ears to tweeters, the woofers
Of a sky which sings for clothing.)
Raised by tongue-fire, gigantic strains
Drum aside drakes and break
Opened opuses at fragrant drains
O the pleasure of musics storm
The buttons of pure pain. Ahh!!!
More at https://www.jamesbellamy.org/.