American Harmonics

The chimes outside my window, three perpendicular tubes twisting in the wind at dusk,

are as green as an old copper coin.

On one I etched PYTHAGORAS because

it was on the island of Samos in the lucid heat of an August afternoon that

I bought them. On the second, JACOB, because

it was Bronowski, master of mathematical skulls, who first showed me how to celebrate the eucharist of numbers.

On the third? BOSS, because here, in the US of A the music they play is Bruce Springsteen.

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