Nyckelharpas, hardingers, and sitars
Express their sympathies less noisily
Than the hypocrite besotted with grief.
Wool and linen are worn interwoven
By priestly enforcers of purity.
We can’t begin to escape the humming
Additions to each little thing we think,
Afterthoughts and harmonies all the same
As doubts and consequences, as beliefs.
Echoes in the orchestras of brains
Accompany each chorus of deceits,
And every vibrating divinity
Resonates with its attendant godlets,
Each same and separate thought that this is me.