Immense Signs of Light in the Ohio Sky

I've been

to that cloud

seen its rapturous vapor

envelop me.  There is

no loud rule there

telling me to be

silent and kind

to my enemies.  If you

thought it was a wide

dark space, you're right--

flat and smoky

indigo with a crepuscular

light.  The tight

sense of favored

but awkward gifts.

When the final

gig begins, then,

pick up your

instrument gently--

the guitar should

be close to 

the hips, following 

the rock &roll

chakra.  As for the

sax, make it an tenor,

a man with hyper

mobility who must

play like he's Sonny Rollins.

And me, I'm just along,

picking chords

as if each one

were wrong, the

progression I make

near satanic.  Thing is,

who cares?  The band's

long ago split up

the players gone

 home to kitchens and lawns.