46

in sufficiency of thought.

Action interpolated / the strings mournful /
our sonatas take on

a glazed orange
belly's ache. A sorrow that old varnish

resonates through lacework of cracks.

Through outrageous flaws harrowing
the body projects

itself redeemed as music.

/ /

Are their minds tunneling
/ are their tongues
ruining tongues with design?

Does the belly dimple /
the sound post break

the bow into random squeals?