Workover I

Anyone remember when contemporary music (as it was then) had titles like Anaconda IV?

The title of my post might seem to recall these sententious times. I meant to allude to the more laboured method I have reverted to with the poem below. (The subterranean metaphor is irrestible.) I have been burying it, digging it up, and worrying away at it like – at least the simile is justified – a dog with a bone. At least it is a change from the Instas! Here it is; fingers crossed. (That would have been a good title, come to think of it.)

After this apologia, what forgiveness? Oh for heaven’s sake, just get on with it!

Present laughter

Cherry blossom bloom
intrinsically pink
individual as pearls
solemn as geisha
lovely in their futility

their self-communing
sleigh bell chatter
like music, about only itself
cadenza that can only end
in the bronze peal of spring
the dragon’s breath of summer

One thought on “Workover I

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