Music From An Empty Room

Up in the above roof gardens pluck air out of thoughts. Changelings run between brick walls one is dead-eyed and evermore shall not see yet it grows itself upon a dendritic tree to hear what the empty places speak of. Long moved furniture’s leave there after-images they remain as stains upon inlayed grains. inside the crumbling interior of bare floor wood owls slowly turn spiral eyes to see for those no longer here. Above this homeless and dreaming mind a straight-backed chair plays a dark cello most melancholy are its tunes that resound on ceiling and echoing ground. The space within the structure will one day rupture but for now a ghostly grey-matter knits together the under, the over, and that room where music sighs between two lovers.