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The short poems, I don't know what to do with them: the cardboard box of mewling kittens left on my doorstep. There's is a hole in my T-shirt right where my bellybutton is. I wonder if that's how the inspiration gets in. The words just jump out at me. Out from the dark. And they have vampiric tendencies. (Bite me.) That is the general thrust of the plot. So much at stake. I don't remember shutting off the light, and a book's a rather hard pillow to dream upon. But my back's the stronger for it. The words come in short bursts. Sprays really, the flower kind. Bullets of love. Upon reflection, the weight I carry in the bags under my eyes sags my shoulders and bends my track. Back then, things were different. How? Put the thoughts into gear. Drive. See where they go from here. Drive. The morning eggs me on, and I I joust with a piece of toast. The yolk runneth over. And there's more coffee too. Hot. On the trail. That shadow follows you, Close enough to get in your sneakers and breathe for you. Jogging memories. If you write half-a-dozen poems before you get out of bed, what do you do with the rest of the day? Anything. Here is a short keyboard piece that I've titled "Butterflies." I created it about six months ago. The last time I was screwing around with the keyboard. The title has significance in at least to ways. First, I was experimenting with an approximation of the left-hand technique referred to as "Butterfly Stride." I saw Dr. John do it on one of his instructional videos. Second, I think it sounds like how I feel when sharing in person or online. I get nervous and queasy. I get "butterflies." I have never taken a piano lesson. We never had a piano around growing up. I don't have access to one now.I have only experimented now and then with an electronic keyboard and Garageband. Oh, did spend a short amount of time with the lessons that come with the app. Very short. Mostly I just apply my sparse knowledge of music theory gained ages ago from the Mel Bay guitar books. I'll talk more about this later. It's stuff like knowing a major chord uses the first, third, and fifth tones of any scale. And how many steps are between each. But mostly I just know. My brain does, and it tells my hands what to do. It's completely strange how I can do this. I can't explain it. I just do it. I sit down for a few hours, get obsessed, get into flow, and things start happening. Time seems to expand, my brain tells me what key to hit, I see it, and I can hardly go wrong. Weird, huh. Hope you enjoy. |
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September 2016
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