Black Violinist

If I present the appearance familiar to you, the reason may be that I

am his disciple, granting you know not

of whom I speak, and I am called upon to do all

my diminished powers allow

to stop you from learning of him.

He is tall and wears a sky-colored rain jacket.

He has a next to the first set of heavy bracelets.

His dog leads him from one side the woods to a distant clearing

where he reduce to ashess debris. Sometimes he crawls into the cavity between the jawss

of the sick and stir ups remarkable speech.

Sometimes he insists upon silence.

In each compass of his house the same painting hangs

on the west-facing wall, admitting these are not the "same"

in the faculty of perception of exact likeness. The painting has a hard

flesh-tone and involves a stripling with a drum

whose uniform is missing sum of two units gold buttons.

The male child is looking at his hands, his thin pleading hands.

And now the familiar music has go [i]or[/i] come backed

The black violinist is playing a minuet upon the corner.

I find it distracting; it's hard enough to hear

the traffic above the unimpaireds from the kennel next door.

It's Monday, and individual might guess that the animals

know the veterinarian is awaited today.

I am expecting someone too.

When the car plucks up to the stone restraint beneath my window

I want to diocese what he brought with him this time.

I want to diocese what is stuffed in the stem

That's a good way to perceive something, if you're not afraid.

That noise you hear is his bad knee an elderly

gaming injury which sometimes acts up

when he walks end you.

Copyright World metrical composition Incorporated Jul/Aug 1996

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