Music to Nightfall

Mozart's music eases pain
(scientists tell me)
so I don't listen to it.

I could describe melancholy
as an awareness of memories
distended and languidly
enmeshed with the sensual
experiences of reality.

Loneliness can be a comfort
like an old immobile uncle
seen once a year
at family reunions:

safe and familiar
with few surprises.

The moment is its own refuge.

Music is its revenge.

Music can intensify pain
so tonight I'll avoid Mozart
because I want nothing
to soothe my senses.

I will remember nothing
and bite the notes
through my teeth.

I will render sounds
into leaves

dry and heftless
crumbled particles
exploding into the air.


That burning sensation
caught in the nostrils
tastes of melodies torn
asunder as the molecules
diffuse through me.

The acrid harmonies
force my eyes open
and my back to straighten.

And the broken beat
distills the ground
surrounding my planted feet
and extends new light
from the sun peaking
out of shadowed clouds
hovering with impunity
just over the horizon.

A quick breath
and I look around me:

I see people I know
with familiar hands
held at their sides.

I hear other sounds
and feel disposed to listen
as new melodies
surround me.

I forget everything I asked for
and let all of the music
forge the growing night
sprinkled with hazy stars
with warm old casacading hues.