The Heavy Wait
Unwavering Instrumentals
Of Silence and Snow
Address Us In Cool
Flurried Fragments
Casting Plaster Paragraphs
Of Quiet Notes Which
Lay, Quilting Georgia Flats
And Other Places
In Need Of No Great Equalizer
For True Turbulence, There is none.
A Make-shift
White Washed World
Momentarily Cleaned of impurities
A soft Caucasian Solace
To be muddied by Sullen Shoes
Tracks of progression
Translate into streams
Of Colored Chorus
And malevolent reward
Melt down into Moth-Eaten Mistakes
Classic Chords of Speculation
With great intent,
Comes unclaimed consequences
That the disciples of silence
Will surely be back
To Once Again Incubate.
Beautiful yet Sinister, Like Your First
Slowly With No Emotion,
The Composition Stacks Bit by Bit
Rhythmically putting weight
On that which will Happily fall.
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