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When asked

When asked why he plays
it differently each day, Debussy said,
“Each day the feeling is different”
Sleep echoes death in the night
Where’s the someone who loves
you most of all and won’t give up
on you—where does she go?

I don’t believe you—you’re not her
You don’t need a passionate person
like me—You might get by just fine
with an affectionate one
or no one at all—
I can’t take too many more blows like
this and you’re not her

Really into it, she screams at the TV
soap opera characters as if they’re real,
“You little slut, leave him alone!!!”
A fine attorney, he could represent
the views of others with precision, empathy
and good taste—or curse at the TV when
his team’s shortstop makes a mistake

The violence of the violin sounds
and soars above and within disparate
orchestral chords as if the orchestra is
an ocean of chords or a cycle of conjecture
and refutation—as though it were a world
of conflicted polarities and that orange life’s
violin cut— so hard, spontaneous and robust

Some measure their passing moments
in cycles of weeks or days—he sees time
pass as soap bars that dissolve and
melt away in his daily showers
She was more beautiful than she
needed to be and it didn’t end well—
She didn’t really want me

Their poverty secures their freedom
because desires and possessions are
the despot’s strongest fetters
In a drink with 18 ingredients the
individual tastes disappear
In a sandwich with three different
meats slathered in coleslaw

the individual tastes obliterate—
The essence goes if you smooth it
away—like a love that did her no good
You’re in a restaurant with colleagues
from work—this isn’t dining with
friends for fun—you’d best affably
charm if you can and keep

the personal to the conventional
and be a tad guarded without being rude
You don’t want to be embarrassed, laughed
at or harassed—and it isn’t about your personality
It’s about your income—Debussy rarely gave of
himself but when he did it was 100% and
many found that unnerving—too much

In TV land every living room or
kitchen table has a big bowl of fruit displayed
which no one ever takes from—If I were the violin
solo in a great and lengthy complex concerto of
what life would I robustly sing?—Understand
your own temperament, use what you’ve got—
Nothing worthwhile is simple

Look up at a cloudless night sky
and there it is, the past, how it continually
shines—from reflex to volition we
suffer in want of what we can’t have
Existence isn’t a lonely struggle—
It’s as if our dark matter collides in a wondrous
slide of barely perceived light clusters

 

 

-August 25, 2018-