Sean Singer

Mary Lou Williams Plays (See the Cloud, and Feel its Bolt, and How this Bolt so Stuns)

Tangerine petals astound the weeds
And the park walks like a bandstand.

A ghost builds her barrelhouse—
That’s what gave this place its devil’s music.

Overwhelm yourself with buoyant glissando.
Wreck the boughs with orphanhooded light.

Imagine a rag doll full of indigo transfers
& the calaphony of wheels.

She scratches the keys and makes knots
In the passage of hours; the stars bind to their cinnamon.

She plays cots & thrift shops, and is strung
Like a barrel of myth; ants burning a violet.

In the trees she turned her biscuit face toward me,
And lifted her gesturing hand…and then she was gone.



© 2008 Electronic Poetry Review