the unknowable transforming point 26/ 30

433 little poems
fictive autobiographical gazing
through the piano looking glass

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Forever and the door open
and closed rather abruptly
and the cellist was left gazing into the light at the window
it was quite a friday
I should sit where nothing happens
returning to the clipboard
the cello sighed a relief and good riddance to the empty corridor
when that could only be that
why by the way was the door locked with that key
oh because because and effect
of course it is obvious and that
the change at bar 16 had to be synchronised with that upbeat
that could not be counted
but had to be
heard feet
and so I had time to quickly look out into the street
where someone was waiting at the door
for the evening out on the way to dumbarton rock
just by the woods where echoes of birds
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but we didn’t know that then
when pinned together close to the edge
and the edge touching bass
I suppose better go face the music
such music and pages and pages of it
sounds like nothing like nothing on earth
if only we knew

Mantras and minutes

Unlike the 4.33
which resonates invisible hums in the shine string
rust moth eat felt wrest plank
and pin yourself together
and pay attention to the variations
leap and big soldiers sounding four four 33
I can only feel the two extremes
of mantras and minutes
corridor and cello
store room door locked for the night
inside leather and lock
next time it would the bach
same old same old
how about the double stops
nice tone there
ah if if if it were a thursday
it would sound like a symphony
but indetermination likened it to a storm in sundry sultry
lend me your cello
and slither over string panic anxiety sweat
can’t hear you over the quartet thank you

Eye on the roof

Light in the shadow
of someone having a picnic
eye on the roof of the opposite building
wind soft blowing the skirts of the breeze
had to keep my eyes on the score
pin myself together
and not look at two things at once
oh leave it
pin it pin together
then clouds over clouds obscure the sun

Back to the sign

Rain came and chopin dimmed into the distant ear
slog on the c minor
up arpeggios down
can’t play anymore
to catch the train
and guess what there was someone waiting at the door
encased in brackets and repeats back to the sign
was I ready for all this
when easily lead in the right directions

Tilt keys

I sucked all that music and beat
that pin myself together
don’t remember him coming back
just the leaving point
plaintive minutes of sound equivalent
buying me over into this down down place
where only 4 years and 33
did I not live here
but in a roundabout way
it was obvious from the start
that it’s crutch could not be taken away
what else would there be
songs titles tilt tilt keys and soft keys
and and and wear it like an emblematic symphonic thing
and no more crucifixion furtive fugue and I only wanted to like you
it should have been banned this 4’33”
but the cold war decided it was ok to be it
and we all take stuff seriously when we think its’ emperor concerto clothes
are as sparkly as the light suggests

 

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