The instruments do not sleep in their dark cribs / They keep cool, meditate / They have speech with strangers (Omer Klein, poem by C.D. Wright)

The music Pythagorean / One note at a time / Connecting the heavenly spheres / While I leaned against the bar / Surveying the premises / Through cigarette smoke (FIELD, poem by Charles Simic)

There’s more than one kind of ghostly music in the air, all / Of them like the wind: you can’t see it / But you can see the leaves shiver in place / As if they’d like to turn their insides out (FIELD, poem by William Matthews)