PHONE POEM 1

I cannot help but be captured by beauty, voices pure in harmony
Counter tenor clean above the lower wind of rapture valleys
Green under skies as azure as the lakes in glacial basins isolate
Of light calling to my calling cry the ice in mirrored sheets
Between flat rocks breaks into white and jade veins
I am replete and helpless without thought against
The beating of the rain at night the riding wind aware
I cannot stop to bleed to be but must listen
To the hissing and subsiding distant caressing sky my planet
And my star entangled home the polyphonic touches
The torches of street lamps illuminate the way
Tunnel of jeweled branches blinking under fog
Morning warms the pale shades quicken crickets now
Car horns distant honk dogs barking a blue jay
Calls to its gang to gather and I do not feel the chains
I only hear the high notes diving and the bass undulate