Saturday, December 18, 2010
I’ve started playing Bach as if my life depended on it –
which I think it does: my dying mother told me:
“use your music” – which I took and take to mean:
translate and fuse the buzz – incessant in the head! –
into discerning living flow – in and up and out of bed,
in sex and food, philosophy and sleep, as shallow
and as deep as such a thing can go – and so:
D minor on the violin begins to spin out in the filigree
of Bach sonata and partita, first to treat insentience
with exactitude and heart – deploy a weaponry, employ
an art – release the sacrificial beast which jumps
in ecstasy into the grease and fire to be the feast
(served – with aplomb – by an insistent solemn mom)
that gives the start all conscious lives require: build
a swallowable architecture – finial to floor to wall
to spire: conjure up the lineaments of gratified desire.
What is it men in women do require?
The lineaments of gratified Desire.
What is it women do in men require?
The lineaments of gratified Desire