Counting

I am counting to a simple beat

of  infinite plainsong

that stopped my chorister

in the middle of something

that could wait, for the low

strong chant grabbed our

hollows and turned them,

took sinews and neurons

somewhere else. In such

voice, green settles again

as a pillow of verdancy

on which to rest.

 

 

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sweet lorikeets

songbirds, now they say, started

way down under

though fossils cannot be found.

 

little wrens flew north they think

and robin song grew piquant

warbling myth from sunrise to dusk.

 

then my sweet lorikeets

who perch outside my window trilling for themselves.

I delight in their delicate soft song

 

too gentle for the south’s harsh cyclonic wash.

their ancestors had to flee

in the face of a perennial folly, belonging

 

 

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Polyphony

I hear a polyphony of oscillations

Swinging through moonnight

My chorister’s songbeams

Transmitted all the way

From the attic to binary stars

Discovered hiding in constellations

Of surprise through a day

Spent computing space.

I’d sing along, the breeze

Taking me travelling

On the chords of a major C,

But sit in the wings

Listening to the quiet

Of happiness

Ascending unfettered, free.

 

 

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A Green Book

Opening at morning to a green dawning

Of bird song and chorister yawning,

 

I am reading a book in a green nook

Surrounded, almost confounded

 

By a greening of the air we share

Page after page, leaf after leaf

 

Entreats me to a thoughtful retreat

Breathing an undulating green relief

 

Of words and chords,

Heard and absorbed.

 

 

 

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I think of Birdman

I try to write music

As you talk bird

For bird knows

You are bird too

Though you are man

 

If I were sound

I would speak tune

I would compose songs

That any bird

Could sing

 

Though I am not bird

And cannot sing.

I think of birdman

Talking poems that fly

Of chorister

 

Singing night owl

Singing verse

While I talk song

Squawking my lines

Like a bird

 

Though I am not bird

And cannot fly

Though I try.

Music talks to birdman

Talks to chorister

 

Talks to me

Hesitant on my perch

Learning to be bird

To be night

To be song.

 

 

 

 

 

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