Brass

All these voices echo
the sounds of each other

the triple beat, the dash,
the urgency of chaos
and a brass clockwork
hid behind the pasteboard
there must be logic somewhere
this flux must have a mechanism

The voices sound the same
but it's just the acoustic,
the sonority of that room
the people look the same
but it is just the dazzle
of that brass room

If you listen with care
they all sound different
though megaphoned
through antique brazen
masqued-mouthpieces,
auditory spectacles

the sound stirs the hairs
of a ditch of corpses
the light makes their faces
bright as an atrocity
the smell is as sweet
and sickly as ever was

This story always has
the the the same dismal ending