taverner, then tye

that I can’t hear a damn thing
the renaissance surface
of these bubbles and the tor
below zinging with heat
is pleasantly disconcerting, to say
the least – the trebles like
tuning forks bearing so many degrees to glissando
from the mean – I suppose it’s an effect
like moving from one room
to another
or from autumn to winter,
sky to
wet horizon
or like this company
singing, blended glad and
sang froid all at once
if you wander into them
without instructions
you run the risk
of needles in your ears
oh, and then
your eyes