Thursday, February 21, 2013

Zimasile II

(the music of Zim)

fusion of sound
& fusions of ears

smoke curls
rapt attention
of my guts
of waiters & squat black speakers
& urban rats
so used to blighted areas
of town, less used
to moments of transcendence

a bellowing, a roar, a thrumming
then, understated as a squeak
a glinting on buffed metal
& spray of spit & spirit
through the reeds

cheeks distended
& eyes looking out
from between hills of sounds, between
phalanx of instruments

a breaking apart, a dismembering
of reality
into constituent parts
my sore soul
then rhythmic chorusing, a wholeness

a sea, a flow, a warm wind
over the savanna
in your eyes

momentarily, the enlivened soul
lies rocking
in a cradle of sound

Frank Meintjies