images

images, just conscious auto writing. nothing vivid really, just writing to music and ideas coming, but not necessarily fitting music, but sometimes entertaining just this:

(to chopin's "allegro maestoso")

fatalistic row in a tugboat
with a topsy-turvy come-undone hair ribbon
flying full mast on the starboard
rippling in the wind as the light catches it
to lift and drape across the sea
worthy on old legs
worthy on old kegs
shot in the foot, literally
but holding on for dear
and dear life

(beethoven: moonlight sonata)
breaking through a wall and a raft
clothing flying back
her solid color sweaters and shirts
in yellow and pink nad black and red and gold
something winding out of the dark
a candlelight of purest gold
so clear the flecks of red orange caught
blasting the cement
to find a rack and a pair of talons
tell me why you will only allow yourself to cry
when you are standing by the lake
a man has no privacy when the dove
is a courier
he says to her: take me back

(rachmanifkoff-symphony 2...i think one of my absolute favorites for the complexity and understated beauty)
looking over the edge the white balcony
into the water remembering the ballgowns
puzzling about the floor
unseen hand not knowing where to place them
this one here, that one there
she doesn't fit
one is walzing and the other wants to perform a ballet
centerstage, extending her hand as the man
she bows in blue silk pants with a black tie about the waist
and a white shirt
hunt is on
taken outdoors until the last firefly settles
the crickets strike up the band
anxiously looking left and right as they
watch her climb down the wall
and run through the garden in the worst
of secret attire
a white nightgown
like a ghost running she takes through the maze
slides down a ruin
"i scratched my nails on the altar
i pulled out his tongue
sang to the windmill and fell for the son"



(liszt--la campanella)
crying by the windowpane and playing this one
at night, on the woodfloor, in candlelight
the chandelier will fall down
piece by piece breaking apart into snowflakes
which fall upon the floor
two children dancing across the room
shaking their hair to the rhythm
like an australian shepherd shaking out the salt
and sand but falling small pearls
which roll across the floor
for sliding on and shifting
riding their horses in a gallop in a circle
fortuitous this blessing
somewhere silent something deep breathes

(debussy--prelude a l'apres-midi d'un faune)
taken to a marmalade stand
on a quiet street
with a stretch of grass
kites fluttering disco beat
as the cat saunters slowly around the yard
cat's got your tongue today
persian trailing her tail to
watch the hangliders soaring
through the abyss and out onto the other side
new world, it is a flower in the attic
a chrysanthamum made of colored crepe tissue
clutching flowers of the mind to breast
as he flies overhead and along the edge of the coast
where the water meets sand
borders so clean from a distance
no jagged lines
until the motor feels as though it may fail
and something is shaking
apprehension and the taut
pull of the curtain closes at dawn

(schubert--11 andante con moto)
charlotte tumbling through the line
oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling
clementine
willows are wrapping you in arms tonight
paridisio
one two, one two, one two three four
who took my jello mold?
head down into a passionate fold
tapping out a rosary on the keys
singing with the bees
bursting into laughter
at the small minnow pretending to play
violin chin tucked in
conductor to the right
firelight underwater
fish-eyes blinking bright


(brahm--lullaby--cradle song...saw an actual cradle or bassinet before looking at the exact title, but wrote of a rockingchair instead)
nothing to say
only seeing baby blue and a mother
singing with blond hair
in a rockingchair
hair twisted into his fingers
and a thumb in his mouth


(schuman--VI sehr langsan)
bare necessities, bear necessities
who is on the right?
who stands with me
while sighing and chewing on a sock
looking at the stars on the ceiling
esther reeling
port in a glass
three men crying
standing by for a white flower to
bloom in a blast light
bursting forth atomic energy
nucleus circling
caging the moon

(taking a break from writing during vivaldi's presto and ravel's bolero)

have had the bad vibe for about 2 hours, heaviness and not good. maybe for an hour.