423

Ginger Baker

by Unknown.

Modulatio

I drum in a modulatio, Africa got stuck between my teeth until, voila, “A Magnificent" flew from a far away place. Until I’m pulvis sitting still, my voice not moving from Death’s hold; until I’m begging for a note in salted wind; until my chords know of no note; until the ringing burns through to my skull. I move rhythmically in rebellion of natrae cadentia, to time’s sudden click by click by click by click from one stanza to another; I sing my lost time elegy. I sing no story angelus lapus and pharetra obscura, a fatigue in the back of my face and moving upward. I swing with one hand smoldering in the sins of self, the other trident, awkward, lamenting: lingered in the fields of another’s “Escape” . . .