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LILAC FESTIVAL
It is nota signof the apocalypseor shouldn’t be. The parkis redolentwith the scentof lilacs in blossom. You can smell itblocks away,and they flockunder the watchfuleye of the crowsto the carny trailers for kettle corn,roasted coated nuts,cotton candyand the beer tent waitingfor the musicas the lilacs sitforlornly wonderingwhen theyceased to matter. First Published in Flora Fiction,…
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PLAYIN’ WHAT’S NOT THERE
Some say Miles said it’s the space between the notes –that’s where the music is.We heard him, we smiled,we anticipated the nextnote and the next.Outside my windowa blue jayrecites his morning prayer,the child’s laughbreaks the frozen skyand shivers the maple.Then all is silence –even the windholds its breathnot in anticipationbut to create the voidthat nature…
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ACCORDING TO PLAN
It was all carefully planned and scripted. It had been rehearsed and modeled to account for and correct any possible failure. This one would go off without a hitch. Her first certainly, but finally attainable after years of close calls but ultimate failures. Nothing would, could, get in the way of success. The music started,…
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ROCK ON SLOWLY
In yet another sign of ageI realize I simply cannotenjoy much of today’s music.I know it has merit, I knowmost love it, sales and downloadsdon’t lie, but it doesn’t work for me.I want the music of the 80s, the 70s,or even the late 60s, but with,dare I say it, a bit of a twist.I want…
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MORNING SKY
The morning skymaculate with tiny cloudsscattered about the endless blue,denied the promised rain. The wind grew angryhaving nothing to propelthrough the azure emptinessand rifled the trees seeking music. There is nothing to knowon such mornings, no languageneeded or permitted, there is onlythe sky awaiting the sun’s arrival. We are invited to watch,asked to gaze deeply…
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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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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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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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YIN YANG
The real questionin the final analysisis not whetherNew Age musiciansinvented acupunctureand massage althoughthere is an inextricablelinkage between them. The real question iswhy two healingAsian modalitieschoose that formof aural torture whilethe patient/victimmust lie still and acceptthe pain inflictedas the pleasureis slowly delivered.
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AND NEXT
Music was so much simplerwhen I was younger, or so it seemed,artists came and went but wealways knew who was who,and when a group broke upyou’d almost hold your breathuntil a new group was formedby the lead singer or songwriter. We missed the Zombies, butRod knew where his silver was mintedand Argent came along quickly.…
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an old writer and his words 