Posts Tagged Music

Etude 2017-6 — Walking Toward, Balking at Death

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Etude 2017-5 — One Day My Dog Began to Love Me

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Etude 2017-4 — Stacking Dishes Without Incident

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Etude 2017-3 — Fugue for When I Tried to Write a Poem on Friday

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Etude 2017-2B — The Moon Is a Terrible Master of History’s Reflections

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Etude 2017-1 — One Day at a DoubleTree Hotel with a Crazy Man

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Do You Know What Happens When Music Causes Great Joy? You end by…

Grabbing blaz-

ing bulbs afire with

super dogs

licking your

face, blowing cauldrons, bubbles

fizzing out your tops.

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Love Will Save You, I Heard, But It Won’t Save Me

The sound that rakes
my spirit plows my flimsy,
rotten body into mountains,

my crinkly spirit sailing undetected, above,
deluding my desires, spying the molten
bodies fixed beneath me, still inspiring the

mangled part that strives to sink into
a starless eternity, without fear, leaving me
wondering why I’m still breathing and why

music from concrete geniuses ices my
soul in orange heat that won’t
annihilate me, no matter the will, and my body

moving poorly, rotten man that I am, nothing
improving, self hatred fatiguing,
but still breathing, struggling to remember

that this was all a tortured gift.

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Strung Up

Motor-mouth machine, what part
of me believes, hopes for happiness
or peace? From mean to easy, neither

works, for punk am I, from the long, wavy
chords in Beethoven’s Number Two, his
weakest, but so powerful, stretching to dive

into a bar of the music and live there,
hide there, never come back, but I am being
a restless dog, first shaking, moving almost

a century to Mahler Number Tnree, and it’s 
here that self-pity reigns and crashes in on the
senses, the false triumphs, dogging my ugly

lack of talent, forcing me back to now 
where nothing can be good, not even
my favorite music. I whisper desires to drop 

dead and slink away as odorless gas, with 
or without music. Mahler, buddy, I am
gone and can’t come back. Scream, Mahler!

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This One Lady

I know this crazy
girl / her voice squirrels
around like a fluctuating
car horn with a
dying
bat-
tery.

She is silent often,
but when
she goes,
she goes / it’s slow and
steady and always
breath-
less.

If I listen carefully,
I go crazy with her

as she crawls around on her
belly, sticking her tongue
out at me, and always
surprising
me with a
jump

from her knees to her
tippy-toes, dancing like a
drunken
balle-
rina.

I want to eat meals
with her, watching her
face as she soaks in all
of the chaos
that spins
around
her.

And I want to take naps
with her, but I do not think
she eats or
sleeps.

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