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Poem	The blatant horns blare strident sound; Delighted, you laugh and seize My passive arm, but I have found Content in the harmonies. They sound, are silent; please or annoy, Are not clever, cruel, or coy Like human qualities. See agile fingers in frantic flight Along the smoking row Of piano keys cut from ebony night And from the sullied snow Of the city. Look love, listen love, tell me-- Where does the music come from really, Where does it really go? Planets are tensed to a single chord Of absolute harmony Sounding from a cosmic keyboard, Unheard by you and me; Yet we re attuned; who understands That can see the judgment-hands Poised above the keys.
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