A Stash of Mustache Ashes

My pal Gregory Perez wrote me this poem on his iPhone for my birthday yesterday.  Thanks, man!

A stash of mustache ashes
Flees into Shanghai breeze and traffic

Algorithmic angles
Connecting noise to signal

Every sine surges in wavelengths
Captured alive in self-made Cages

The truth of where this sound begins
Is likely found where Ben has been

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