MY PERIPETIC MATE AND THELONIUS MONK

They walk with a child’s

vision of the world.

He creates new music.

She explodes

with a sense of wonderment.

Both search for clues

on how to feel alive.

A lifelong meditator,

conscious of breathing,

she walks mindfully,

really looking at this and that.

He explores silence, inventing chords

with angular, splintered sounds

surging upon other sounds,

attacking respected melodies.

She compiles pictures of shadows of leaves,

branches and trees, discovers flowers

blooming out of cracks in cement

that go unnoticed.

Her portfolio includes constellations

of cigarette butts, fat ladies’ behinds

and smiling faces that look most awake.

He takes sounds on a musical journey

to places your ears have never been.

His improvisations are legendary.

They are immediate in the moment,

in the creation of pure wonder,

opening your soul wide open.

Walt Whitman smiles.