A steel comb uncurls
the notes, swirls
a sweet music of cotton
candy. Like a charmer
of snakes I'm charmed
hypnotized by the language
of sound that uncoils
while iron teeth
a rosary of hooks
tear at this butchered
carcass, and leave the listener's
heart in shreds.
It's my heart they're playing!
Quirk and stench. But break
the casing around the ballerina, and the carillon
stops, for bad taste
is its sweet harmonic shell,
a case for the baroque
pearl of affectation. Night.
Frankenstein's violin is calling.
And I myself am that musical monster
condemned to the musical wheel
of his musical nostalgia.