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ALL THAT JAZZ
The magic of jazzis not what you think,there is nothing randomeven in the wildest, inthe acidest of solos. Cacophony is randomnessand the key to jazzis to see theinvisible logic,read the mind,be the mindof the musician. It is zen, but onlyif you stop searchingand just be in itsmoment.
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LUNA’S SONG
Tonight, when the sunhas finally conceded the dayto its distant but ever larger kin,the moon will again singher ever waning songhoping we will joinin a chorus we haveso long forgotten,bound to the earthin body and in waxing thought. We will stop and listenperhaps, over the dinof the city, the traffic,the animals conversingwith the sky, our…
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IF ONLY
If there were truly justiceat least of the poetic sortperhaps Van Gogh couldhave been born 75 yearsearlier, and in Viennanot Holland, so that whenhe decided to be ridof an ear he could haveoffered it to Beethovenneither of his workingin his later years. Andif a poet could arrangetime travel using his licensethen he could just as…
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CEILI
He liked nothing more than slipping out the back of the Ritz Carlton and heading down Nonhyeon-ro, more alley than street, past the small bulgogi restaurant, and winding his way to Gangnam-daero 106, finally arriving on the great avenue, Gangnam-daero. It was buzzing with life at all hours, but in the early evening the Virgin…
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A RETURN SOMEDAY
Some day I need to returnto Tokyo and walk its streetslistening for the soundtrackthat Haruki Murakami requiresof the city, bebop jazzin Shinjuku, classical whenwandering Asakusa and Senso-ji,and rock on the streets of Shibuya. I have often been there, butmy soundtrack was thatof horns and the clatterof a pachinko parlor, orthe pitched giggles of younggirls walking…
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WRITE ON
The problem with too manysongwriters these days isthat they either pose a questionbut demand answers, or onlypartially answer their own question,leaving the listener to guessat the balance of the answer. You are atop my list, sadly,dear Alanis, for when you askif it is ironic, for mostof your examples I mustrespond that it is not so.…
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ARIA
After years of embarrassmentI have finally come into the light.It isn’t that my writing has improved,although I surmise that wouldbe a narrow space to fill,or that I can now draw thingsthat were once stick peopleand animals and things. What has improved, andimproved significantlyis my singing voice, oncea three note range, and onenot known to music,but…
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EIRE
There are two principal problemswith Ireland, and I found bothto be utterly insurrmountable. Every town, even Galway Cityat any time of day or nightlooked like it should be a postcard. Add to that the horror that inevery pub I visited it was assumedthat if asked I would sing a song or, realizing I have no…
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A SMALL REQUEST
If those in the campsknowing their fate,the inevitabilityof their impending deathcould call up music,for orchestras, playor sing withtheir final breaths, is it too muchtheir ghosts silentlyask, for youto pause andremember us,and singa dirgefor our souls.
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SOTTO VOCE
For reasons I cannot determinethe cat sings to us each morningat 4 A.M. and why I am awaketo hear her songs is alsosomthing I cannot determine. She has a sweet voice andshe does know several tunesbut when I do get uptwo hours later, she refusesto tell me what the lyrics were. I suppose one morningat…
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an old writer and his words 