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DUALITIES
There is the knowing and the not knowing,there is the seeing and the not seeing,the hearing and the silence, but therecannot be the being and the not, regardlessof what Hamlet may suggest as a question.Even Yorick realized this, perhaps too late.No one listened to Horatio on the parapettoo busy in their own soliloquies to hear.But…
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SOLITUDE
We are often blessed with solitudeyet we consider it a curse,for being alone can be difficult,more so when it is with yourself.The cacophony of the mindhas no off switch, and the outersilence is like a volume knobturned slowly to maximum.It can be bearable, but thereis always a lingering fearthat it may have no end point,that…
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AND TONIGHT
This should be Paris, he thought,dancing alone in the Tuileries, orEngland, looking down on the Thamesperched atop the London Eye.This was how he imagined it, nottrapped in the madding crowd, everyonefrantically multitasking, searchingfor nirvana or a release from boredom,from the quest for monetary meaningthat had trapped them in a maze withno exit or end point,…
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OBSERVING
He stood alone, a stoic observerin the midst of the maelstrom,deaf to the cacophony,bathed in a golden silence.This was not a gin dream, hehad let go of alcohol and drugsfor they crowded his thoughts,forced them into places henever wanted to be, his dreamsonce his holy salvation and hea penitent to Saint Morpheus, whopromised him freedom,…
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A STRANGE LIFE
The sun rose this morning,as if the day was not in anyway out of the ordinary, daysgone far too large to countfor those with finite capacity.The birds begin, their harmoniouscacophony, though they thinkit is their lauds, matins of reflectionburned off with the dew underthe gentle glare of a late spring sun.They watch us begin to…
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NIGHT VISITOR
Across Bedford Avenuein the fourth floor windowthe antique bird printis bathed in the lightof a Chinese ginger jar lamp.Her shadow dancesacross the wall, armswrapped tightly around herselfin the sway of Terpsichoresinging her melancholy song.I hear onlythe cacophony of the drunkon the cornerbraying to the moonand the rumbleof the lorryon Tottenham Court Road. First Published in…
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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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THE SUN ROSE
The sun rose this morning,as if the day were not in anyway out of the ordinary, daynumber far too large to countfor those with finite capacity. The birds begin, their harmoniouscacophony, though they thinkit their lauds, matins of reflectionburned off with the dew underthe gentle glare of a morning sun. They watch us begin to…
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ONE EVE, NO ADAM
They arrive ones and twos accrete dissolve reform, swell the cacophony grows takes on a joyousness as they ebb and flow; the food disappears the wine the laughter draws you in and you want only to circulate but how with shifting nuclei and then the scheduled end and hours later the last slips away and…
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SNAKE EYES
They roll in, one after the next, after the next, gaps that appear in their rank are soon enough filled. By night you mark them by their red lights, lemmings with no cliff in sight, so they sit one alongside the next in the queue, disgorging their chattering, smiling contents into the vast building, and…
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an old writer and his words 