Patricia Goedicke





but all music has holes in it.


rock plops      into a pool

ripples spread        for awhile


between the wickers of a basket       closings

then openings


none with any voice       but the rock


plops into the pool

pool guzzles it     delicious low throated  gurgle


what does the air feel           above it


child skips a stone into the water

                                                 itís gone


then thereís the cackle of a crow      the long arrogant

wail of a freight train      



this house has holes in it

for looking out          and in 


what is the space         within


this window has flaws in it



where the glass blower          paused

this heart has a valve in it

a hole        a slow leak


between seed and seedís descent

into its instrument


bow scratched across gut strings

fist in the chest         thud

                                           and reverberations


this music has holes in it


big enough for a spaceship

for a bomb

for a god to drive through


Copyright © 2004 Patricia Goedicke.  All Rights Reserved.

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