1.

2. why should there be mercy?

i wish i could wright
a haiku sonnet
that death is motionless
and brittle

3. Oh,

there is no last word just as there is no first, huh?
oh, i see, why?
a small alphabet indicating separation of the speaker from the subject,
parentheses implied, perhaps,
but never punctuation,
(The laws of grammar are a bourgeois affectation whose only purpose is to indicate a certain education whilst masking the absence of a particular thought, designed entirely to prevent the base passions of those who sweated for a living from leaking into ladies’ drawingrooms. They are a veneer barricade that must be stormed.)
Technical Exercise #142. Create the illusion of conversation, separate voices involved in the act of inspiracy, yo ho ho me hearties,
Place food sensually inscribed by cutlery, a letteropening carving knife, a sudden failure to misunderstand, a quick motion, up against the hardness of the wall and searching stubby fingers parting thighs.
Some consent required, of course, since we have dressed them in such complicated clothes.
It felt like a life and death battle between the instrument and my self, as if it were not possible without invitation, a burden passed on.
afterwards, just artefacts, trickling like the trails of soldier crabs on sand, these lines maybe and the sound of the tide extinguishing the last embers of a dying piano,
burningpiano.jpg

“It felt like a life and death battle between the instrument and myself.” Jazz pianist Yosuke Yamashita.

Advertisements

5 Comments »

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

  1. Bourgeois affectation or no bourgeois affectation, stylistic error or no stylistic error, your ability to reason several arguments simultaneously makes your work stand out, at least in my mind. I loves your style and sentence structure, dude, your maddening habit of thinking outside the box makes me jealous as all hell.

  2. My words are my children. Great writing!

  3. the piano is not dead. You have given birth to it. Oh no. Now there will be little burning piano babies. I think one is at my door. no i was wrong. it was the neighbors door.

    swirl away

  4. ohh, i so like you already… my fingers itch to write and my ears to listen… thrz nothin better than a piano.. on fire… sizzlin… no1.. is that existentialism hiding behind john lennon.. no.2 the best… glad i found ya.. definitely be back.. thanks for the enlightening linguistics..


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.
Entries and comments feeds.

%d bloggers like this: