I draw out of the air
    shapes
    of soul.
There are stories whose beauty hurts.
There are polyrhythms in silence.
Materialize! Materialize!
Be blue lines spiraling in the air.
Be brushes of orange
    painting the hollow
    of this room,
    following music,
as we strive toward translations
from an unknown language.

(9 May 1989, Buffalo, NY, Colquhoun residence)