honest endeavour

you're writing new music, or trying

recording just the air so far

the weight in the room 

you are praying for a sensation

for something real to come over you and to throw you back out into the ocean

so you are waiting, hunched before the toy piano

dreaming up a sequence

seeking to spill yourself

tipping forward, too keen
to glimpse the possible future 

broken pedals, a beloved (but not classic) drum machine

my mongrel guitars and I

attempting to fuse together a frail beauty

newly ancient (will not fly)

makes no sense (is probably wrong)

so you are waiting

in love