Django before his left hand was crushed -
Medusa sound's perfection
turns all it touches to stone.
Notes falling like burning sleet
define parameters of impossible song,
of crystalline sound, irreducible,
a shimmering specter on which none can bear to look,
the face of God.
It was God who crushed Django's hand
out of love.
Humanity has no room for such perfection.
Humanity demands more.