There’s that lonely broken survivor, nonchalant guitar,
Rowdy frets smoothed by riff upon riff of notes bent blue.
Feral anthoms sublimate into a downtown afternoon,
Liberated from the lazy watch of the faded pick guard.
Soulful impulses, puddling in my passing ear,
Rehydrate dormant victories as I walk on, a thief.
-T. Weeks
(A response to “I Heard You Solemn-Sweet Pipes of the Organ”)
Life Immense 