In the beginning … (another poem)

an erratic gamelan orchestra
of empty tin cans rattles down the dirt road
while at the pond at the back
new moon tree frogs bleat as big bull frogs burp
a rhyming boo-who pulsing chorus

over there, sweet-water crickets sway
lap dancing on breeze rustled reeds
mining heavenly harmonies thru their knees
as they slither their zithers & play like mad micro fiddlers
all care o’ lulling that vast musk of sky

up there, fires trail-blaze high on skipping hill tops
beneath brilliant bedouin stars that promise
- pure perfection -
nearer, paper thin flutes flutter below longing lips
teasing tasty rhythms that soon speed even the slowest of hearts

here, memory and imagination fuse

BUT it seems, these days
these ancient-time future-promises lie mute
trapped, as they are
in billions of bloodless cold corpse computers

velvet moon voices once moaned in shared magic
now we listen to our sausage-fat noon-day fingers
fake and forge
sunset horizons of begone becomings
with the ‘click of a mouse’: ugh

can you hear this?
whistling-a-ding sing song?
my sweetest sweet pea?
because I will
didgeridoo you
didgeridoo you
until you
do do
do