iTunes: The Definition of Music

Inspiration does not arrive by ship,
late at night, disembark, run amuck
in the city — leave a claw trail of notes
across the backs of dilatants, then
break apart at sunrise, like clouds
sullen with rain and the pain
of awaking to commutes, concrete,
the constant hammering of cubicles
in offices, abandoned to islands of indifference.

Inspiration lives in avoidance,
the indiscrete trail which appears
in morning fog bramble-burdened,  impossible
to negotiate, yet can be as intoxicating as
the moment when you first track
the lines of a foreign body — pliant
and accessible — the moment when
you first understand the rhythm
which drives so much.