I keep rereading this post by Simon. It is one to take in slowly, repeating the lines, offering bounty. I am humbled and honored by the dedication. These places – “(What I cannot grasp – that resonant fullness / of a dying chord).” “Sketched, grasped / but lost.” “Reachable, / Signifying / What is no more.” and yes “Attack, decay, sustain, release” (repeatedly) – a significant writing. Thank you so much Simon.


( for n. filbert)

But up or down?
The heart moves in and out.
Its own rhythm.
Has no memory, no sorrow, no joy
(the wild geese cry, flying away,
Away to the horizon of light).
The heart has no words, no tears.
(What I cannot grasp – that resonant fullness
Of a dying chord).
The heart has no words-
The reason music is.

First words
laid down in thought,
Sketched, grasped
But lost.
The path between breathing in
And moving out,
A pull, a chord
A melody.
Formless form,
Existent for an instant.
Possibly enough to light a light –
A dying arc in the bubble chamber,
Proton, antiproton, quark –
A path measured but no longer
What is no more.
(embellish, embroider, garnish,
In the end all stories are a rope
To cling to in our vast uncertainty).
The beautiful line of that…

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2 thoughts on “

  1. It only came about from your suggestion and the choice of music – and then, only just – writing the first ten lines or so I was still listening to that beautiful piano piece, but my iPad crashed and lost the lot! ( hence the second part launched itself after reconstituting the initial ideas on a more stable platform!)

"A word is a bridge thrown between myself and an other - a territory shared by both" - M. Bakhtin

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