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FLUTING
She says that since the cochlear implantall she hears is battling flutists, and she adds“you know how I hate the flute.”I remind her that she did love Paul Hornbut she retorts “only in small doses.’A friend says it could be worse, it couldbe battling harpists but she wouldgladly trade her flutes for harps.I want to…
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NAME THAT
It should be daunting, sittingin a waiting area in a gownthat is open in the back, the roomlike most all in such officesmore refrigerator than lounge.She smile and says “It’s your turn,we’ll do one, take another patientand then the other. Is that okay?”A nice question but it isn’t likeI have any real choice.The MRI tube…
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THREE HAIKU
music of kotogently washes angry wallsspring robin is born lightening etches cloudsarching over the cityspring rain approaches rising sun castsits glow on the shirred mirrorof the reservoir
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CH-CH-CH-CHANGES
Walking back through my lifeI can now begin to see when and wherethings changed, where I changed, wherethe place I thought of as my homebecame alien, altered, as thoughthe weathering of time wore awaywhat I now know were carefully appliedveneers, real enough seeming to meand to others who stopped to visit.And when the music changed…
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SLAINTE
Ireland should have felt alien,but it never did during our visit,nor had Scotland years earlier.And it wasn’t that I loved Scotchand Irish Whiskey and Guinnessalthough I did all of those, andtraditional Celtic music to boot.What I didn’t know then, whatI wouldn’t learn for a decadewas that my taste for thingsIrish and Scottish was woven,twisted into…
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AIRPLAY
I heard several people say thatif you were under 30 and livedin Boston or Cambridge and weren’ta student at Harvard, Brandeis or MITyou were either in a band or managed one.I went to college in upstate New York,but I was quite capable of managingtwo turntables, the microphone andan ancient tape cart machine,always timing my intro…
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TOKYO NIGHT SCENES
Scene 1Just off Shinjuku chuo koen North,nestled in the courtyardof the Green Tower, hidesJyoufuji Temple, serenein the first light of morning,the sun dancing off the ceremonialbell its striker poised, as ifwaiting to catch the windand to it sing its resonant song.Inside, the prayer mats awaitthe first supplicants of the daybelow the sandalwood altarand above it…
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GALWAY HIGH STREET
She must be what, in her thirties nowbut in my mind she will alwaysbe nineteen, maybe twenty, shewill always be standing outsidethe boarded over windows of a storefronton High Street, most likely a mauvenubby skirt reaching just over the topof what might be Doc Martens, blackcardigan over a black turtleneckher fiddle tucked under her chin,the…
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NO ENTRY
. Each night we go off to bedand close the bedroom doorbarring the cat from entryinto our sanctuary, the onlyroom in the house she is notfree to roam at her will.We do this because we are allergic,because she is a cat and cannotbe trusted not to do somethingwe might regret in the morning,because she is…
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an old writer and his words 