song (an artifact) [2011/2015]

I am not 
the honk of 
a trumpet     or 
the tongue 
terribly waiting 
     and waiting

I am not
the six razors
tuned to open me     or
the wind
articulating what 
     and what

  (I am no longer to be found 
in the low end 
where the evening is 
a betrayal of the speaker 
and where the list of 
recognizable names is
short)     

I am not
the skin of a goat
stretched across ceramic     or
the yellowed fingers
tapping intent 
     and intent

I am not
the circuitry
delivering noise     or
the web of wires
tangling time 
     and time

and    I will never be the never-ending song you 
                   think you hear