I was enjoying the music
Loud music, sometimes
When everybody in the band landed with the drums
On the same beat
Such a powerful pulse of air was produced
It hurt
The music wasn’t the rhythmic pulses of air
Nor would it be cathode-ray oscilloscopal wave forms
Nor was it resonating vibrating ear cilia
Maybe it was the electric synapse lightning-flowing pathways of sparks
Of the brain,–some people think so
The cascades of my emotions
Grooving like air pulses can’t
Grieving in the blues
Thrilling to the guitar licks
Loving the ensemble harmonious sound and the beat
As no oscilloscope can
Movements of my soul
Undulating to what is now music
Is the music
David Fekete 