Red,
It’s in the low distant tumble of the Q train in my window and in the rough magic of rocks getting jostled gently into stones under ice below your garden where above all that my green truck stayed hidden in the frozen field forever and again and again dawn breaks against Art’s barn burning deeply red golden red and it’s here now tonight again in the candle of my heart light healing purely open now again tonight again and once again unfolding freely in the wind and I’m whistling it, Red—the Rhythm haha yeah hell yeah it’s in the Dial Tone you said and The Fat Lady sings it Holy and the birds going tralala again and Faint as it all is, Red, all this Music—you taught me how to hear again, and for that I’ll always love you.
Again and again and again,
Dyl
to hear again. what a gift. thanks for writing this