In memory of Mick Karn (1958 to 2011)
The fretting hand sought
half-tone increments lost in the dreams of reason–
I threw my arms into the air while you stopped me
cold fire fanning at the corner of the room.
Don’t look back
at the forgotten puppeteer
for every pizzicato I have played
must be detachedjaaaaaaadevoid of its passages
and leave with me and my music
in the nautical twilight.
A dream guitar on my lap
I looked for you
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