I

stacks of plastic casings guarding fragile magnetic tape
almost turned to dust like the ashes of the voices coursing
like blood through the earth in search of home and staring
me in the back with the tiger eyes of my mother who inhabits
the pages of my soul in the midnight hour stacked on the floor
in verses black lines through the curses now is the time to catch
the rhymes in ones and zeros can it come through is the mysterious
question for all mankind but I think of my father and his mother and my
other grandpa and grandma all those echoing voices are the melodies that
run free and the beating of my heart drum that keep the feet always dancing