Another Class, Another Post

Welcome to 'The Artist's Way' class. I hope that this is a place and venue in which we can play. For now, I will offer up the poem by Michael O'Siadhail that I used on our first day.

Enjoy!

Music, always music. And when the violins tumble
a thief has entered me.
Come and gone.
A sneaking anarchy
leaving spoors of memories I never had.

Incognito. Whimpers through crevices and pores,
quick bowings of a violin,
furious pizzicato
of what hasn’t been
whinnies and hops beyond a future I imagine.
My vigilance breaks down. Rupture of being.

This  syncopation. Offbeat,
out of phase
with myself, I vibrate.
What’s this breathlessness I can’t catch up with?

That flight of thirds mincing up a treble
clef. Lines of joy.
Matrix of frontiers.
EVERY GOOD BOY
DESERVES FAVOUR. Silences are spelling FACE.

Endless glory of some muteness that eludes me.
Approach of another face,
tremolo of forsakenness
naked and homeless.
How can I fold and suckle all its orphanhood?

Music, always music. Neighbor, are you the face
of that thief breaking in,
Hollowing me out?
A tumbling violin
breathes its cries in me.
I’m womb and mother.

“Music,” by Micheal O’Siadhail, from A Fragile City