During a Franz Wright Reading

Normally the bagpipes are played On green hills of Scottish homeland For one but the birds to comprehend Musical, instrumental, breath-held worthy Genius. But not today. Today the crazy Saturday bagpiper has returned To his worn patch of nature In the midst of an overcrowded, overworked, Tiny university. In trying to hear I could not comprehend In asking to hear, words would not be spoken What is it about the unreadable That enhances our quenches? What is in forbidden places That pushes us inside? The bagpiper continues to play, Shallow tunes, tunes to hear, To tune your ear into If that’s enough for the spiritual.