Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cricket, curiosity, music, poem, poetry on June 7, 2017| Leave a Comment »
He sings in the corner,
the invisible cricket,
and each time I look for him,
he stops—
I don’t wish
to frighten the cricket,
I only want
to watch.
What is it in us
that wants to know details,
wants to analyze
how it is done?
And what is it in us
that says, close your eyes
and let the song
go on.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged junk, music, optimism, poem, poetry on October 21, 2016| 1 Comment »
scraps of rusted metal,
tumbled mine buildings,
splinters of fallen trees—
running clear and cold, the creek
makes music of everything
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged music, poem, poetry on July 17, 2016| 1 Comment »
all day a song
insists on itself
like a lover who tugs and flirts
at the hem of a dress—
I let it have its way
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, healing, music, poem, poetry, violin on October 29, 2015| 2 Comments »
In the Midst of the Wreckage
Make in my heart a concert hall
where a single violin
plays on the vacant stage
reminding me in a minor key,
that one true song
touches every broken,
twisted, rotted thing
invites us to lean deeper into,
no, to fall completely
into the beauty
we stopped believing in.
Let me not just hear the song,
let me tear down the heart’s walls
so everyone can hear.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Christian Schubart, iambic pentameter, key signatures, music, poem, poetry on October 25, 2015| 3 Comments »
Translate my body into song, a song
that only you know how to sing. Transpose
my thoughts in E flat major—key of love
and deepening devotion. Score my lips
in F sharp major—triumph over pain.
My heart, compose in G—idyllic, filled
with tender gratitude. And for my breath,
E major—laughing pleasure, full delight.
And I will sing you, too, my dear, will sing
in tones that only you can hear, will learn
to sing outside the staves—for they’re too much
like cages for the wilderness of you.
And let us improvise together, let
us sing beyond the measures, let us learn
new signatures, new ways of listening.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, music, poem, poetry on August 24, 2015| 3 Comments »
Oh hear that, love,
the night sky has become
an opera of blossoms.
The stars are opening
into song for anyone
who will listen.
As always, someone’s
heart is breaking,
someone’s getting even.
And someone’s love
is gaining wings.
And someone’s trapped
in prison. And all of us
are invited to be
singers in the chorus.
Or perhaps
to be the silence.
Or perhaps to write
the score. Oh darn
the world of daytime things
that keeps us from this art.
Let’s pretend that we don’t know
the end. Now’s the time
the start.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged coming of age, George Winston, music, poem, poetry, puberty on December 31, 2014| 3 Comments »
And I am again thirteen and ripening.
It is the summer my record player breaks
and plays “Winter into Spring” over and over
for months. Outside my bedroom window,
the hollyhocks grow from stubs to blooming staves,
and the garden snakes braid in the tall grass and my window
is always open. At night I read ten-cent paperback novels
with a flashlight beneath my sheets. There is a curious
feeling unfurling in me, something that quickens and trembles,
as if I also have strings to be played and strummed and plucked,
oh sweet strange chords of pink and red, taut and then slack.
The arm raises the needle, then sets it down again into
the vinyl grooves, and the summer spins and spins.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged a capella, communion, music, singing, unity on June 7, 2014| Leave a Comment »
for Heartbeat
Here, rest in my voice
on this note we share.
And when you breathe,
I will carry the song.
And when I breathe
I know you’ll be there.
And this is how
the song goes on.
And this is how
we disappear.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cicada, gratitude, music, poem, poetry on May 20, 2014| 2 Comments »
Each shrill, whining, or whooshing song is a call to the endless nature of love.
—David Rothenberg, Bug Music
Sometimes the only thing we need
to do is step slightly to the side
of the self. It is easier then
to see how beauty surrounds us,
how we ourselves contribute
to all this beauty.
By what odd trickery
do we forget to say thank you
in every moment?
We are not like the Magicicada
that must wait seventeen years
before our time to sing.
In this very instant we could emerge
and choose gratitude—
one way is to be wholly resonant,
to add our voice
to the one great music.
The other way is to listen.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged music, parenting, piano lesson, poem, poetry on February 17, 2014| 1 Comment »
Sometimes
the sudden crescendo of luck.
The boy says, please
will you teach me
to play piano and there
is nothing to do except
say yes. And inexplicably,
where once was fidget
and fiddle and twitch
and squirm there is
sufficient curiosity for sitting
very, very still and learning
the curve of the fingers just so,
first against the silent bench and then
against the keys themselves,
and he names the notes as he plays them,
again and again and again; again;
e, d, c, d, e, e, e. The rising thrill
as it wakes in him, a rush
of understanding, the singing language
of the staves. Now the dark blots
are song in his fingers, melody
on his breath. There is never time
enough. But sometimes,
oh, the music falls out despite. Quarter
notes doing cartwheels
as if they’ve escaped
the pleats of time, danced
right off the signature and
played their way right
into the astonished heart.