Were it possible, I would be naked. Of the nude philosophy:
consider the globalization of the expensive american sound.
Should we worry? We should work. I believe you’re right.
I distrust the word “white.” It’s sanctified propaganda.
Repetition is my language of origin, the highest technology. Anyway
the body is only mine provisionally. For reasons that I’m not sure of,
I am convinced that before becoming music, music was only a word.
I prefer to destroy the composer, renew the concept.
Extraordinary limitation playing freedom.
Copyright © 2019 by Taylor Johnson. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on August 26, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.