Hawaiʻi Sonnet 53

Here’s my draft for today, Friday 05.10.19

Hawaiʻi Sonnet 53

a man sits on his roof tonight playing classical guitar
and listening closely, I close my eyes to hear him better
to concentrate my energy on the melody that’s made
me in this vanishing of everything, the sound of money
never earned through fame lies mute, these notes knowing
only the blessed grant of a gift, good as any, a man playing guitar
simply the light of some star glowing fire noticed only by me
as I lie listening, I drift off, and clearly suddenly
for no reason I can imagine in my dream, I see myself
falling headlong from his roof to the hard ground below
but still singing all the way down, unfazed by gravity or death
as gifted as a cat, I guess, confident of landing on my feet
so that while I fall, I hear still perfect singing coming out of me
as if this were the way I sang every time I tried to play up there

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