A faulty instrument
behind a door propped up in a broom closet
a clarinet with bad posture
singing like Rauschenberg’s goat
shamed,splattered with paint,decaying
and humiliated by an old tire.
And celebrated? A prize in the
permanent collection. A shadow
phantom earlier self, circles the antique
modern self of now. What song is this?
What rough soulful sound?