an old theme

Silence, a series of ten little poems, the first of which is below, is new (the ink is still writhing and wet). This poem is, by comparison, old, written almost ten years ago. It is a different approach to the same theme, from a period in which I spent a great deal of time thinking about how music is made.


AN OLD THEME

The jazz trumpeter—an old theme,
    so bear with me on this one
    because, truly,
        not every poet has paid homage
    to davis, gillespie, et al. . .—
signifies the eloquence of silence
    by continuing to play
        after the piece is at an end
    by continuing to blow
    by producing
        an absence of sound.