the bar, the bar, with all the little
helpness notes strung out
in between the strident lines:
you must, you must, keep moving with them
else lose the narrative,
the string of coherence and strain.
today, today, a little song must sing
what ears won't acknowledge
nor eyes raise to meet:
there is, there is, a balm to be had
for all the ills but there is not
enough to go around.
please sing, please sing, since only sound
can keep the notes running,
can give the words power:
there was, there was, a mountain of truth
but now there is rubble
and the tribes run round seeking lack.
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