Blackbird an online journal of literature and the arts Spring 2008 Vol. 7 No. 1



Audio: The Philosopher

The ambulance siren is beautiful, much over me as my rushing heart and its wash behind my eyes and through the long length of my arms and legs in my bed in the deep night. It is autumn that is buried in the folio, and to lie into pre-sleep is a walking along the dark rows of tables and green lampshades. Who back there is lost, a hand pushing into the vibrations just above the floorboards? There is music that is edifice and music that is a fear of death. That is to say, I found immortality faster than I had wanted. Pay very close attention and you will begin to hear the trumpery. And you will want to go back. And you will say you have more work to do.  

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