the unknowable transforming point 16/ 20

433 little poems
fictive autobiographical gazing
through the piano looking glass


On fridays in the afternoon
rain beating fiercely on the glass
you would not have heard 4’33”
even if it had surfaced surfacing
4 minutes 33 firsts
a first time for ever
moral of the tale
tall story four minutes or small persons and thirty three
first athlete and only olympiad winners
too many fingers for one piano
although we could probably just about make it in the end
four players no thumbs and we’ll work it out

Intercity preludes

Look at me
press down shoulders
down sink sinking into the key
who did that shaft of light look straight at
me before I curved over
and landed breathless over the keys
the snap shut of the lid of various arrangements disarranged lindy’s composure
spent all night learning copious intercity preludes
and all she wanted was silence soft cage
furious at her now

All go

Count me in then if that’s it
that’s it count me in a sound proof room
but you can still starlings and trams
her trams
bus conductress with her green eyes shadow
eyes at me and safely kept her guard on long hands
safe the four minutes
ahead all go
starry night and piano
flight of fancy
how surreal the hand pains
and subter fugues and preludes slog slow working
all the time and stops and over again but at least it was time

A score of anything

Collect your fiction before you carry on
fictive ficfuc off the roaming lips
of whoever chose to try trip
ficfuc and lose
it couldn’t have been easier with the big car
following to the station
ficfuc you shouldn’t have
think about the time
nonetheless you were in my mind about the listz study
with such ease blond and beige
a piano full of cigarettes discard ashtray bosendorfer
in smaller than I thought
the sound of four and 33 thirds all clamped
you can play that
and it sounds you could say 33 and one third
double thirds and a score of anything
20 four and 33 fourth and fifths
and up till further you fall
into deep crenellations and wonder
how the ficfuc you got there
grumble prompt and page turn
unbelievably swift
and stay in that position
the camera will remember even if you don’t

The black and white

Softlence and soft page
it all go and ready to gleam
on broken worries
and pedal fix tunes and sounds amazing
record the Bach while it lasts
but only if that man hadn’t come into the room
and stopped
over in the corner whispering
and sitting there scared to move
or touched the black and white
so I find it hard to be so
slow intermezzo larger than hands
layer on the piano
cake and gravitational art
at such serenity painful and graft
soft shoulder shrunken hands
light in the stairwell and smell of tea
and warm hand me
tilt and ficfuc
to the head space and cage
and pin yourself together wrest plank



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