Notes To Chords Poem by Joe Bisicchia

There is a cricket down there, or two or three.
Thinking darkness of the unknown is the Grand Ole Oprey.
No wine in a while, but none needed. I am in the upper light.
Wonder, wonder, wonder of life.

Wonder the spotlight if I flick up the switch, erase darkness,
if it might pull, pull us away from our bashfulness
in this otherwise blind night.
But from the top of stairs, I keep light shut. And shut mine.

I close eyes to the darkness, and listen to the brave brashness.
And stand there as if all's eternal luminous, and widely known,
as if in a 24/7 supermarket milk aisle, as if no one is alone.
Nothing to see but that Grand Ole Oprey. The world and me.

The colors beam across my stage. And I too might sing.
Astounding the world we the precious weak might harbor here
as countless did long before flood lights and Plymouth Rock.
Deep in Time's dark alleys they all somehow gathered and saw

in between the sounds. In between the unknown.
And expeditiously lived and died to the beat.
Made music with their hands and feet.
Just like the bugs unseen.



Published by pacificREVIEW: A West Coast Arts Review Annual,2019