I Am Both

Something in the sun sounds like music,
something in myself is the sun.
The music deletes the sun yet comes
from inside of it.
I ache like the sad music of her sounds,
her sons are a tribe of impotent warriors,
I ask the movements to emerge
like from within a tomb.
Who’s come to start this sun, my
music? And when I arrived who
blew it in the opposite direction
creating a whirlwind?

A tornado hums over the landscape,
a funnel cloud barks in green,
comes over the sun.
There is the blue barn
crouched in its cave of stones,
holding its small visions, its small
encryptions.
The whiney mind moans,
her wood planks shudder and the light
of the diaphragm opens totally up
upon these angels of stuffed horses in their stalls,
eating apples in the frozen darkness,
their eyelashes are words I think of then,
their heads, the mountains of
computers mainframes.