three recent finds...

she and he,
ignoring the wall of bells,
trying to keep the earth in its proper orbit,
through touch and strum.

the strings and wood,
entwined
standing still near an open door as dust
spills inside. sometimes the wind
blows the strings, offering
a sound of melancholic
desolation.

he on the couch
visible, stable.
his music like fire
his head and explosion
of flux.