Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Sigur Rós at the Filmore in Detroit

The four translators of sound bow
under glowing spheres, floating 
replicas of the planets and stars.
Gracing this one from across the sea with
greetings in their native Icelandic tongue.
Beams radiate in color, my insides illuminate. 
A cello bow saws at a guitar and
this small world of listeners explode
in applause, thank yous for transcendental euphoria.
My skin tingles with hair rising
as my muscles relax.
I hit the wave of awe centered around
the rush from chest to brain, 
from brain to sky and
for a moment I forget the confetti in my hair
and the thousand others being reborn
in the rainbow blizzard.

No comments:

Post a Comment