Harmony and Harmonics 1999

the first sound you hear is red
and everything is red a red
red angry red so the first sound
is angry and such a fine anger
a mist of anger a fine spray
a fine spray indeed in deed
the first shot is blood – clearly
 the first sound you hear is bloodshot
  a red amorphous harm a hum
   an hum ah numb that first fist bleeding
    round sound red you hear
     something incongruous here in the red
      that anger never comes in a fine mist red
      or otherwise this found sound is curious
     at its heart now comes a concussion
    anew sound bleeding into the blood
    anew the sound is cream really cream
     a cream concussion sunburst the new sound
    is white the cream sound is just the explosion
    of the white sound into the heart of the red
     poom the lotus opening in time-lapse
     poom the sound of a smile in the middle of a kiss
     poom the white sound bursting over the red
     now here’s a conundrum the white sound
      washes out from the heart of the red and around
     there’s a reeling behind the eyes a vertigo
    this sound is a falling a dropping a slip in time
   this white is either heaven or death
  a wave sound a hiss and then in its midst
              the sparks of all the next sounds all
             the next are here so the next sound you hear
             the third is everything
           everything else is here in the sparks
          these third sounds and sound motes whiter
         than the white you hear them
         cracking out in blacks and a booming blue
       a pinprick golden gold doll’s sigh sound’s
       creeping up on you from behind a sweetening
       the gold is the harmony and it doesn’t exist
       that lustre that shine is only the implication of all
      the other sounds over-which and through-which a bloom
     of green a fireline snakeing sizzle
     almost a thunderclap green rolling across
     the whole symphonetic muse vista
    this green ripple this torn piece of time and sky
    this wave washing through from the outside
   this emerald-sound whip cuts through the white
     harm trailing magenta clouds
      this foil of green cutting into the layers
       disembowelling the white of its cream and red
        the golden welling in the edges of the wound
        just a hint a fragrance of non-existence
        of everything and nothing all together in the rip
        poom the pong of eternity a paying out
         on drums a gut-slapping to impress four year-olds
         you hear it all and it is blue blue blue
        as the red in the white and the sparks in the wave
        blue as the sound of a tear in blue
       blue as the sound of the sky blue
      blue as the tears tears tear in time
     a tick-tick-blue as blue as you hear
 a blue metronomics as blue as you here.