The Pianist
Władysław Szpilman in Warsaw
Music grows on wave crests.When the sails of sound are at half-mast,music breaks up into pebbles.Each soloist is a finger diallingdeath’s number.
Only the nameless dwell in the...
audience
my brain guides the fingers each a handpatterns sequences of line hardly a chordfor or against and the surprising key change
my eye leads scouts...
Nighttime on the cusp of madness
Nighttime ghosts cackle,eyes shut, painful gut,in a rut of another sleepless hour,no power to shutoff thoughts, delaysolutions, resolutions, absolutions,passing...
audience
my brain guides the fingers each a handpatterns sequences of line hardly a chordfor or against and the surprising key change
my eye leads scouts...
