the unknowable transforming point 116/ 120

433 little poems
fictive autobiographical gazing
through the piano looking glass

What

Time
a point at which
or period during which
things happening
machine
one who can do
only what she is told

Lindy next life

Sweelinck praeludium toccata schumann sonatas
seixas sonatas schumann set of pieces
papillons waldescenen
schubert sonatas big scriabin preludes
c. schumann little pieces scarlatti sonatas
concert programmes
lilliana
lindy next life
1 sweelinck praeludium schumann papillons interval
seixas sonatas set schubert die wanderer
encore scriabin prelude
2 sweelinck ut re mi schumann sonata in g minor interval
seixas sonatas schubert sonata in a minor
encore scriabin prelude
3 sweelinck psalm schmuann fantasie interval
seixas sonatas schubert sonata in b flat
encore scriabin prelude

Nesses

Sweelinck piano the other day
wanted to write some poetry
but instead
the incessantly cross tilt of word upon word
where’s the senselessness
ness
nesses at the edge of the world

Rough stuff communication

Door slam car yeah calling on the mobile
footstep disarraying raging steps and mumble with
anyway can’t remove the mind’s eye storm
the big windows
see you at the time we arranged
rough stuff communication
without reference points mythological
hot into the comfortable parent infant
out of the parent infant trap
some substitute to all these years of default
to obedient minor years of default
who’s fault behaviours
can we laugh at this behaviour
huh huh

Pondish containers

The click of mouse unevenly
must be predictably for now
this new eraser of past
how far falls the slime deeper
into the pondish container of mirrors
and recommend quick nod
and send off to the castle
to gather bluebells and the scent of lilac
creamy and soft quilted
write and run out of words days in row
from which the slide of sun and rain collide
in intrinsically nonsensical jargon
and running out of breath words
and trying to move forwards
from regressive turn of phrase
into a daylight
lighter than the thoughts and touch would imagine
it’s not this haiku stuff
that measures a point to a point
the now next
the how next
next
a long silence

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Author: LindyK

Composer/ Pianist/ Writer www.virginiaaurorascott.co.uk

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