IN C
From Terry Riley’s
minimalist shadows
breathless in shimmering
less deaf public
to air out the pastime
of a pubescent scent
without fear of the old
classics of time and chords
augmented in our ear
now on a new uncovered
scale beyond twelve tones
unsealed o be recorded
and even painted
by the sweeping fine lines
in greens and blues
of Michael Myers
as patina’s new history
inspires to make music
loose as hairy combs
yet some critics retire
on their tomes and tombs
domes and to their homes
hiding the new baby
in their wombs,
others conspire
are for hire,
suddenly we hear Adam’s
Nixon in China
Reich and Glass
others prefer jazz
of Dizzy and Mingus
and a chorus of the greats
rather than bad ass
the unflawed past
as Beats emerge
from common pains
we the outlawed are set free
in C’s memory
gone are just reason
or rhyme refrains
now in the academic
didactic era
a new dialectic starts
as dialect converge,
art, music, poetry
play les beaux arts.