JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

If all the music ever played

all notes that soar from then to now

were gathered here

 

In theatrical concert

a vast and jangling choir

of tuning up

 

Before the future dawns, Gregorian monks

with cornets taking their places besides

wigged and perfumed court musicians

 

Woodwind and brass, cymbals and

alpine yodels, guitar and sax

a massed ensemble with a million throats

 

All hushing now then to a thunderous

roar of clapping, the Grand Composer

strides up to his podium, raises his arms

 

And silence falls.  If all the congregations

of discord condensed from

ever changing key and cadence

 

Were about to link their arms

and harmonize an anthem for tomorrow

would Ode to Joy reverberating upwards

 

Usher in the symphony of the spheres

a waterfall of sound to glitter causing

angel echoes from a snowflaked sky

 

Or would they coalesce into a single song

played by a white sleeved child

interpreting the birds upon a bamboo flute