Jimi, are there harps in heaven.
For your ears, hearing, making, breathing
Rhythm round the planes of colour like
Light itself, the frequency is that high.
James Marshall Hendricks
Born 27th November 1942.
music
Nothing to do with the TV show
Glee
Will reign heavy in the song
When drums beat out for triumph
As I imagine that day
When sound will cloud
The sun with a brightness
That justifies the years
Spent searching for sounds
That beat the inner
Recesses like pinballs
That never won you
More change than
Fun.
SAD, never mind, anticipate Spring.
This is the time of year when
Music needs to dig deep
To find us, rap a rope
Around our waists and wind
Us up to the light.
This is the time of year
When summer sounds are
Hollow and clatter round
Like flies scanning for jam
Round an empty jar.
This is the time of year
When Love’s warmth is
Set in relief against the
Grey, when any ray is welcomed
Like a hero from the war.
This is the time of year
When something as tiny as a
Crocus bud is all the hope
We need to prove again that
Life springs from mud.
Being Every Day 