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Posts Tagged ‘song’

Four from Chicago

 

 

 

One When My Grandfather was Still Alive

 

 

in the subway tunnel

the arching notes of Danny Boy

on a violin—

I walk slower to meet the train

I arrive twelve years ago

 

One Courage

 

 

hearing the moan on the other side

or is it a low laugh—

still choosing to open the door

 

 

One Near Totality

 

 

eclipse behind the clouds

so much beauty we never see—

sunflower blooming in a distant field

 

 

 

 

One New Time Signature

 

my father a song

I used to think I knew—

this morning, I hear

the same song with new ears,

or is it that the tune has changed—

all day I hum it,

all day I feel lucky

to hear him humming back

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One Soundtrack

 

 

 

writing you a love song

with no measures—

it will take a lifetime to sing

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            for all the busy people

 

 

that’s when I hope you remember

the skylark, not so much the bird,

though that, too—how it sings

even while being chased by hunters,

though it increases its chances

of being caught.

 

But more, I hope you will think

of Johnny Mercer who struggled

a year to write the words

to the tune by Hoagy Carmichael.

By the time he finished Skylark,

Carmichael had forgotten

all about the song.

Sometimes, it takes a long,

long time before the words

come out right. Sometimes,

the moment just isn’t ripe. Sometimes

there’s just too much to do.

 

But perhaps amidst the meetings

and the plans, a snatch of song

will come to you, something

that won’t be ignored.

Perhaps between the papers

and the rush, you will feel it,

winging. Perhaps, as you fly off

toward the always what’s next,

you won’t stop yourself

from singing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A piano is just

some wood and strings

until it’s touched—

and then it sings.

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trickle in the desert—

it takes so little water

to make a song

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Letting the Small Ache Sing

 

 

 

Not yet dirt,

the outline

of squirrel is still visible

on the hard earth

of the back road—

I step over what remains,

wonder

how many other lives

I’m walking on.

There are infinite ways

to praise,

among them

these words:

I am sorry.

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Two, If You Let Me

in the forest of you

I will find the empty branches,

become a song bird

*

don’t get me wrong—

I, too, love silence,

shall we speak it together?

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