from his treasure


...he drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself:
     a day of dappled seaborne clouds.
everyone suddenly burst out singing
     he is dead and gone, Lady.
they turned to him, who was listening, and smirked
     it is nice to listen to music, but nicer not to.
when the rains began then, that day
     though not really. it was long ago.



     "A vegetable garden in the beginning looks so promising and then after all little by little it grows nothing but vegetables, nothing, nothing but vegetables.”

     Gertrude Stein said this and as she was saying it I was thinking oh nothing will come from this and then but it did, something. something else. from the music around the thing it came. which is where what most people don't hear but why? it's too much for me to look at a fire pit. to see it there, like some eggplant sitting.