Wednesday, November 03, 2010

The secret museum

The horn on the Victrola looked inviting,
so I jumped inside. It was cool, and smooth
to the touch. I fell, but slowly, and so I was
not afraid. I became very small; I believe
the force of my fall influenced my shape,
which began to conform to the inside of the
horn. Eventually I became a single point.
And I entered the groove of a record, which
launched me as pure sound. A vibration.
I carry no melody, not even a note. My trans-
fuguring moment fell between beats, and so
I am an aspect of that atmospheric scratch
in the background. Before me, and after me,
came the most beautiful trumpet solo.

Damon Krukowsi

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