Category Archives: Writing

Do all trees weep?

Do all trees weep, Or do they stand and Suffer us to live beneath Them unawares That there are those whose height And times stretch further than Our own, Whose reach is more eternal And whose loyalty is pure, unfeigned And firm from earth to sky?
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Our Winter’s Hero

Under the weathered awning, the vagrant’s joints began To ache, hiding from the rain, he scratched his Roughened, feeble knees and cast his sunken eyes Up and down the thoroughfare. Storm subsiding, and Then a biting wind. He had sat there long enough To know a cold snap when he felt it, twitched his Hirsute [...]
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The desert island

I’m beginning to acquire a practical understanding of just how futile artwork is in a vacuum. I believed it before. I knew it in my mind. But I now feel it sinking into my gut. Actually experiencing it is something else entirely. Although I would likely dance on a desert island, and probably clang coconuts [...]
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Mahogany Gallant

Mahogany gallant         Kinkade treasures         giddy frappes and cappuccino cluttered corners         contribute to it. That’s what I say         Am I in this triptych?         Take me outside, tuckered up and running         night’s pitch and stoking stars brighten shades. Witness this, the best of all.
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September Haiku in Michigan

Yesterday fall struck In the winds I can smell the trees turn to rainbows
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Some poetic residue

The nature of my creative process leaves me with sketchbooks littered with seemingly disassociated concepts. Stray idea gobs hang from folded corners, and outlines of amoebas filled with gorgeousness sit atop the pages. Sometimes I glance back, even just a few days, discovering snippets that could easily have been penned by someone else, because I [...]
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Boccherini, Performance, and the Post-Modern Musicology

The composer achieves nothing without executants. . . for while it is pleasing to hear people say, “What a beautiful work this is!” it seems to me even more so to hear them add, “Oh, how angelically they have executed it!” - Luigi Boccherini[1] I know that music is made to speak to the heart [...]
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