Michael's Fáilte

Welcome to these writing warmups, blatherings, rantings, meditations, perorations, salutations, latest and those on time, those narrative, declarative, interrogative, gollywogative and other outdated, belated, simulated musings, perusings, shavings and other close calls, with no disrespect intended, that's why no real names included whenever impossible to avoid the guilt that came in the crib for uttering something that would hurt or injure those in authority, being of everlasting servitude to all and sundry, having chosen the road not taken and the frost on the pumpkin long before the kettle turned black or the cat found its own tail fascinating,
Your humble servant, etc.

The island writes in fire and steam each morning on the pages of the sea

The island writes in fire and steam each morning on the pages of the sea
Lava Meets Ocean. Lynx, Starboard Side. Day 2.Early Morning, July 8 2006, Looking for Flashes off Chain of Craters, Big Island

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Takacs-Yang Ghazal

Even my big black truck's windshield wipers made music

while I peered through the smears at the lines on the mountain road


First they played Haydn's "Rider" and we tried to sit still

but applause broke out between movements and the cellist smiled


Next was tricky, Bartok's number five, arching dissonance

and spooky sounds of night mixed in with a melancholy or longing


At intermission, the retired bookseller said he liked the first one—

but the second, too raucous. I thought of the miles the quartet had traveled


Dvorak's piano quintet with the young feisty pianist came last

forty-five minutes that lasted three days or a rapid plunk on the viola


We stood right away, we cheered, we roared and shouted for more

you know how greedy we get

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