Diamond and vinyl’s an unlikely combination
And yet the insensible needle
Renders music from the mute grooves,
Real revolution. Your intricate, fine-tuned
Ear is no less rare, measuring
Nothing as it rises into the air.
When you make music
You sometimes touch such untold parts of yourself,
Near the edges of everybody’s time, that all sounds
New again, as it can in our first hearing.
Even Winter listens, and plans to blossom.
Singing’s darkest seasons can
Tease us into beginning, too, if we want;
Unless the beautiful changes, you’ll have to coax it
Again and again out of the world’s cold deafness,
Releasing airs in
To the settling air.
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