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I Just Broke the G String I read my repertoire and think “God, this is depressing” The reality is that my inspiration flames burn Out of the belly of my pain Melodies are magical words Deep treasures waiting to be discovered I want to express it all And keep the body Combined with the spiritual beginnings I am young To think I can have this all Still I hope Ponder dream I am awake and naked In every crowd I don’t belong breathing in An audience Solitary Thinking Being “God, this is simplicity” Creating a universe out of Nothing Imagination Creates reality Still I am thinking Hoping Dreaming Loving Breathing Burning The passions of my misgivings The foundations of creations beginnings The meters of language The metronome clicking Gauging my finger speed Pressing black and white Spaces on the Steinway Expressing reality “I just broke the G String.” God, I am silently laughing While the vibrations of power chords Linger my thought waves Into a composition Previously unrecognized Now named, “I Just Broke the G String” Still I am smiling Pondering Wishing Hoping I won’t have to pay For the replacement string On the Steinway To some other novice practitioner This would be concerning Perhaps this would stunt the development Of their repertoire practice sessions I am hoping Imagination wandering To the next set of fingertips Pressing black and white spaces Discovering the last pssions that sat here Broke the G string On this out of tune Steinway As I exist naked Solitary Thinking Somewhere in a crowded train Humming a melody A newly discovered composition Entirely without G “God, This is my bemused reality, To give myself the ultimate passionate compliment” Rachmaninoff would understand Somewhere in a universe Of compositions he instigated Through black and white spaces Dreaming Pondering Hoping Loving Sailing a Russian sea of misgivings He gave me some room With a Steinway Unable to love him His flesh old and storm war weathered I, frustrated and burnt Rose up from the fires of revolution The devilish ghost of Paganini Accompanying me Somewhere perhaps off key My melody “Oh, sssss I Just Broke the G String” While God, Me, Rachmaninoff, and Paganini Are rolling, laughing As Mother Russia is burning Our inspiration genealogy Into future musical heritage Compositions endlessly continuing The pain of lonely genius Is the Devil The piano form Allows me and my forefathers To symbolically embody “Burn Burn, Burn me!” She says Mother Russia Is laughing at a distance I hear voices As the unknown pianist Plays Rachmaninoff’s pain Paganini’s pain, my pain Of “Oh God” I just broke the G string Of the Devil’s plaything I just created a universe with this composition A reality Humming alone on a train Accompanied in a far off room Given by God Instigated by Paganini Taught by Rachmaninoff This is my reality Now that I have broken the G string On the Steinway I am complete Free to rise from the flames Ashes of our Mother Hoping Wishing Dreaming Loving Teaching “God” What could have been heard? Through the black and white spaces Had I not broken the G string? My forefathers The Devils Those genius souls That sat in a room with a piano Are with me now Breaking God’s string Perhaps ‘A’ is next

What is this sweet fascination? Twist the grail pop a top Bubbles foaming over flowing Throat gulping Timer wrist watch stops Tasting indulgent objects Holding phallic symbols Golden Eggs Prometheus Stole fire from the Sun Revolving What is this dirty clinging feeling? Wrapping plastic sealing Destiny out grown by tragedy Matter of factly This is reality? Comedy Sophocles, I hear that thunder overhead Secretly laughing What is this rain? Bacchus’s cheeks glowing red flames Intoxicatingly giving fortune cookies Fated dreams prophesying causality Dueling freedoms path by reason Descartes wheels breathing life separated Body’s from mind and seasoned Amanita muscaria is dripping Down my white tee What is this stain on my soul? Narcissus drowns my laundry Within rippling muddy pools Inhabiting delicate sounding waves Back to back Echo lacks A proper prose to sing Inspired hearts devotedly broken Abandoned Muses inflict Harmless ego bruises Drowning in the Jungian pool Consciousness within society Will seed, plant, grow, and loom What is this hidden crystal cavern? Mythically methodically patterned Erogenous astrological zones Descending keys consciously pleading Pine tree cones to DMT Ancient spirits singing “Listen to the doorway's opening!” They guide, speaking freely Unlocking groves of magical gatherings Elysian Mysteries Beckoning entry Initiate me Where am I? Is that the question? Is my time line correctly scattered? Unfamiliar space appears This projection point An astral reference guiding light I embody truth divine I am I am What have I Done this time? Erased the line sideways Heaven’s fault lines align cosmically Seers of endless marvelous Genesis Testing, guessing, questioning In the garden’s beginning Law abiding citizens Never ate from the forbidden tree Eat this fruit Spin those wheels Kick start heaven Rise steel gears Purify samsara Detoxify karma Embrace divinity Occupy Nirvana Eat that fruit Defy God Find a path Natural law Will these lessons mesmerize me? Dissipating channels narrow margins Constant particles widening Interpreting silent philosophies Apparent through the doors Of perception opening Symbols of sacred mythology Rituals of humanity Seek Godlike immortality Becoming the essence Of majestic infinity

The Road Home I dove deeply Immersed within the undercurrents Of Salt Lake City’s belly Sharing the umbilical cord of humanity’s PVC Breathing patterns engraved divinely Upon each threaded strand of DNA Connecting each individual to creation’s Sidewalk leading back to the beginning Of the Earth’s immortal gravity Gray spaces crack tired bones Holding body’s cold Cement square blocks rest Backs holding bricks with weighted packs Deseret 20 degree thermometer Sweaters offer little protection From the freezing arid weather Misty breaths test temporal matter In fact, is it possible that this homeless state Of existence is simply divine perception? Life’s wisdom in parables taught Through the wandering ascetic Asking humbly To prolong his journey just one more step The golden rule of measurement: Treat the least of these, my children This day as I would treat thee It could be you or me Circumstances projecting your course Into homelessness Sleeping in between dreams Perceiving the road ahead as an Unforeseen uphill struggle Dreams bridge the gaps Of divine existence Against material essence The accumulation of which can’t be redeemed Once we have left this earthly presence For every sentence I recite An endless road combines Each step I’ve taken Behind this punctuation point I wish I could say I’ve never Aimlessly wandered My marked size 8’s With agony gripping My feet until humility forced Momentum to slow my gait To a crimson stop But once upon a time I Sunk my soles to murky puddles I seeped footprints beneath dreams The moon pushed hope unconsciously Navigating dark intentions Rip tides pulled my stance Firmly hitting bottom On the sidewalk alone Surprised I landed stranded Isolated Alienated from the gateways Of social pleasantries Without a home Hindsight 20/20 vision Meditates upon past alley ways Still recalling feet I haphazardly Found myself creeping Steps I mapped guiding police tape Constellations nailing chalk lines Flashing reds and blues I’m not talking disco lights This crime scene became my life This whole poem is true Yet this story is only One sideline of the trail Acquired through Alchemical experimentation Exploring realms of experiential knowledge Distilling qualities of age And continually stumbling over dual feet I think the phrase referencing This phenomenon is a demolition ball Train wreck colliding with societal flaws While heavenly goalies cheer “score one” Team Me vs. Them But then, again Life is all perception Perceived by that who is perceiving Alley way circumstances Found white and black trails Blazed in my behavioral orbital motions Perhaps I happened upon A Big Mistake But then again I see wisdom achieved through Taking responsibility of the demons Chaining your earthly existence To the lowest common denominator Naming them appropriately as the angels that Showed you an opportunity to transcend Reaching beyond the causality Of individual potential and breathing Life’s momentum ascending The levels of awareness Somewhere upon a perpetually moving line One step after another I realized this eternal path is my road I scaled mountain depths of Hell’s caverns Transcending evolutions through reincarnating As understanding Wisdom Compassion Breaking chains against weighted balls Sisyphus pried manholes off gutter drains Previously paved with metal and tar Holes became faded scars Prometheus rose from the ashes Rebirthed from the heat of demons Piling one on top of another The minions became ladders I climbed One foot above the other Raising the Devil’s Horns to angel wings I healed wounded landmarks to road signs Signaled by past pitch marks Stolen ashes created my Phoenix The source of Heaven and Hell Is all the same Only the perception Of the one who perceives Is the origin changed So I ask myself If I am always on this Road And my eternal body is in perpetual motion Am I ever going to get home? My arm stretches a beggar cup The Buddha notices poverty I rest in the alley Way of sickness The Buddha passes and sees An opportunity for compassion And healing I lay in the path of death The Buddha looks and sees Humanity suffering Within the darkness rests Life and death, bardo between The cracks of homelessness The light within existence If you see the Buddha On the side of the Road Ask the perceiver Who perceives? Perhaps all of this Is simply me Dreaming The Dream Endless searching For my eternal road home Ami M Hanna

Mirror Mirror who’s that girl I see appearing on the outside of The body of the man that lives within Skin not belonging To the feminine reflection Is perception others see as me a she not him Traveling suburb roads Within high hilled slopes Scarlet feet accepted Ironic unfamiliar Feet are transgendered Wishing for converse Sneakers to ride Skull painted boards Gripping unclean meat tendered Patriarch says I’m dirty He phrases words such as,   “You’re disturbed, disgusting Just going through a phase Better repent to be saved “You could be so pretty” Just paint lies on your face Smile the clown in sacrament Meetings showing the 3 ring Circus of Latter Day Saints You’re a member of the flock Black wool spooled from the Blinded thoughts that queer Isn’t beautiful It’s a sign you’d best fall in line To walk the temple climb Stairway raising your eternal Soul to God’s Celestial Worlds Don’t you see Divinity? In rejecting your inner gender You must wear White clothes and receive membership congregational acceptance  Mormon families High idealed community God’s children Can’t see beyond Heaven’s Celestial Glory This Angel finds the face Reflecting past and future On the train Trax leaving Downtown to spange On the streets of Salt Lake Mirror Mirror I can see clearly here This face not her but he Riding the train to the SLC The windows reflect the tears Washing the battle paint Down that swollen face Wiping the past away with Thoughts that it’s all behind For good this time Better to brave the winter weather Then sleep cowering in basements Fearing the screams leading To beating transgendered beginnings Right out of this body Hearing words “Just take what’s good for you” Girl, take off those chains Break the weight confining Your inner gender to something less Than needs to be saved Take your destiny In your own hands of fate The red shoes are thrown Towards the Oz behind the Screen of God You won’t hide yourself To ride a red balloon Windy tornados blazing Your Golden road Heaven’s middle way back Home Trax station platforms veil time As a destination Plaza people pass The spray paint graffiti holding bricks Mortar engraved by blood sweat and tears Freight car boxes Plastered tagger names Sign billboard ads of territories Eyes prophesize already What this ride will come to pass Sitting on a sandstone rock Chiseled by red and blue cop lights Decidedly parked not to block Commerce tracks Sam Weller pages Punk spangers Harassed 5.0 Signatures indent court arraignments He watches through the gaps As the northbound train grinds to a stop A Homeless Punk Recluse Anarchy patch On his back Green and Red rubber cement Hawk Indian inked knuckles Proclaim Hate VS Love Utopian ideals He explains the ways of Forward moving trains To a tribe of runaways Gay bashed by parents Mormon, drunk, not accepting Many reasons for leaving Many reasons for spanging The heroin, the cocaine, the methamphetamine A burger and fries Can I bum a quarter? man Or a smoke Or a ride On a train On the Trax Tuberculosis coughs Sleeve collects the snot Tears, ketchup and blood stains Never washed or bathed Gathering MRSA fluids Lacking sanitary conditions Or even a safe place to sleep or bathe Childhood ages Withdrawals the innocence For a simple Spange Streets are better than the illusion Of safety within white picket fences Smiling neighbors don’t believe Those queer kids are really being beaten Homeless tribe families Value each simple generosity Of eyes shining through The storms of right wing casualties Sidewalks and overpasses offer Comfort and safety from The contact of swinging Fists bringing judgment Home becomes day to day Wandering carrying Heavy loads within backpacks Walking train Trax Hopping box cars Filled with needles Chains knives Bruised fingers Clasp the wreckage Of life’s trash Piling the screams As recycled dreams The city gates and rolling hills Move slowly past He escapes the life He left behind Moving to another Hopefully a better Way through time The weather always changes Seasons bring Relief As the sun Shines to reveal God is not the sleeve Pounding destiny But the light within Your eyes that’s eternally shining The Signs to heaven Marked by railroad crossings The Flashing Reds and blue’s far behind The life of that place they told You was home, lies Inside you held the truth You always knew The stars sent you away To find your way back someday Even this body will eventually Sigh one last breathe And you realize Your light always has shined Through the clouds and inspired The silver lining Paving the way to Those that will follow Upon this rainbow colored road youth will commemorate the sacrifices and abuses you endured to Save them from Hated Fate giving them the freedom To express the love and Light that burns brightly Forever within them Mirrors will say to smiling Reflected faces You’re Queer Transgendered Bisexual and Gay All of this is your right Your truth and destiny Go forward Angel and shine!

Bare Muted trumpet flares My soul reprimands Eye seems shut Red wine bottles Placed delicately, deviant Oh so carefully Bare Cellars cold chairs scattered Waiting Condensed chains ferment Grape vines I am holding this empty glass Someday shattered by your brass words Muted trumpet Bare I have known you Once upon a time What’s your name? In this lifetime A dream precognition Sitting by the ancient oak bar Having this heart to heart Reconciliation You again Here to tear apart Time Musical spaces, here Do it again I am a red wine glass Hold me to your lips Like brass eye locks Connect again That old jazz melody In the last life We wrote muted records Trumpets scratching needles Held to our heads Sweating in Warsaw ghetto beds Numbered chord progressions Shouting precognition of Nazi Concentration silent camps Collecting pain We sit and recollect Where our eyes Have been in love again What’s your name? This time Do I dare to remember? The day they took you away I placed brass keys down The record needle Became a place in my soul I filled it again and again I am an empty red wine glass Ancient oak bars Waited, sitting between us Reconnect, reminisce about the past Names we gravely carried Away by our footsteps Pressed into the incineration ashes Of our friends Lovers Compositions Burned Nazi fires Irreconcilable melodies coalesce Muted trumpet blares I remember your name then Your name now That same song You play is mine I place down The empty glass Pour the red bottle back Down my soul Needles filled with forgotten records The compositions reborn Bare Cellar walls cold Waiting To be opened Set down Like the souls we saw burned Reprimand The painful record marks Scratches we carry through time We break chains of grape vines Angry, bloody red fermenting Aged melodies Opened past cellar doors Warm to the mouth My lips press the glass I drink you in Again and again And again You’re playing our song Throughout time Again and again And again I drink you in I drink you in I drink you in Ami M. Hanna

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