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Tenth Etude: Opposing Sonorities

by Nate Maxson

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Who knows what trench warfare without an enemy would be like, you just wait faithful that someday there will be one while you dig deeper and deeper down into the earth
Scarification of the old world, Europe pulling into itself while America yawns but we were this close to the future: to the machine as it began to move
Launch delayed and now, it’s never too late to pluck out a star
And eye
A fruit for an offering
From some suburban branch
Where the streets are wide enough for an army
Or an orchestra
Or a new language
If thy right hand offends thee, or something like that
It’s never too late
Each night a man climbs the spokes of this device and sings bird calls into the exhaust vents


end of story

© 2016, Nate Maxson