Don Bogen

Have To

What do you have to give away

One note—you break it open again and again

A braid of tones inside the one tone unraveling

As it drowns in air like all tones

Same mind, same wrist, same hand, same white key like a chisel

Repeated, a moment thickens

Focus clears out what’s messy and unimportant

The deeper you listen the more you hear the limits

There is no world this infinite and pure

© 2005 Electronic Poetry Review