FOR JOHNNY DYANI

When I swim in my music

a harmattan of colours

becomes an area of feeling

where a rainbow of feathers

peoples all space

dancing in my heart



Here I do not even know

what flowers pop out of my eye

I move

without even touching air



Johnny you take us out there

where we gasp silently

amidst a bombardment of sound

in the spell of the witchdoctor's son

where I cannot even ponder

how a witch and a doctor paradox

could be one entity



Your bass

Johnny pins nothing down. Your bass

rides on wave or height or rock

or depth or crevice of sound

to bathe us in music



And we are moved

where we cannot even

hear ourselves gasp