Land without music

Some things are everywhere
like drawing and carving
folktales and pottery

There is ground
there is sky
over here
and over there

If I went far away
and said to the people I met:
With my finger
I make a picture
in the sand
They would smile
and say,
we do that too

Fire and make-up
is like air and water
in the places of the world

But there is a land
without music,
where sound is scoured
and pale

Though seeds are planted
and singers arrive
their songs shrivel on the shore
and music will not grow

It has been a long time now
and still they say
draw us a picture
of this "music"


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