In The Sad Hum Of One Harmonica Poem by MARINA GIPPS
In The Sad Hum Of One Harmonica
In the sad hum of one harmonica,
I can never get so low
where dogs go blind
and lose their hair
and start to smell
only so old...
I can never get so high
on such a smell,
the lowest of the valley
with its ruins smiling
so high
like classical art
about to fall from
a cliff...
And that far-reaching
rock-bottom approaches.
I run because
I fear
the ivory heart of music,
Hemingway and Spain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/27/2024 7:38:59 AM # 1.0.0.1119
