This Jay Wright number is like floss to your verbal health, all carom and woof. Epigrams on the mystical nature travesty, here and recorded, there and ceremonialized. "This song is an open field," the poet writes, "and a fibrous exploration | where the voice feels braced | by its own fluidity." That's like the quintet refrain in final 16 bars before closing. But you'll want to hear the solos.