is a deep and thrumming
hum,
is the way roofs
rise in staccato
is the water pooling
on the steps
falling away in descant
throws back the sky
is the wind
cutting glissando
the song of the solid
is the earth pounding
the strings
of the freeways,
as it throws itself
forward, for the joy of
moving
the song of the solid
is the road twisting
holding itself
poised in an eternal curve
the song of the solid
is the silent determination
of the gravel falling
is the melancholy
clatter, against stone
that recalls
the stone crumbling
above them,
the bitter loneliness
the fierce determination
of the rush of dirt
and rock, to seize possibility
voices rising in a cloud of dust
the song of the solid
is the vibrations
in clenched teeth
of bones arched and holding
the flesh high
the song of the solid
is the eyes glowing
bright and deep
above the sweeping motions
of the face
the song of the solid
is the song of things
that have been crushed
into themselves,
under pressure
humming quietly,
with the atoms clinking
to the rhythm
of their own