writing to know, knowing thru being, being for writing... this is me, writing about the one thing i know, which is myself... and even that is sometimes a mystery...

Saturday, July 30, 2005

the piano man

i'm spending most of this weekend writing, reading, and playing piano, mostly learning (and re-learning) radiohead pieces.

so, to help me get in the mood (which isn't difficult considering radiohead is so fun to master on the pianoforte), i've got a prose poem that i wrote after i heard about the mysterious piano man of recent months. (what ever happened to him anyway? did they figure out his story? someone fill me in, it seems i stopped paying attention to it after a while... oops.)

enjoy your weekends. and hey, listen to some radiohead! or, learn the piano. both are equally fine ways to spend one's time.

hasta la vista,
(don't you just hate how every time you hear that phrase you immediately think of arnold schwarz...? it is a real phrase used by real people... it's not a catch phrase invented in the movie. it's still just words that belong to every one else...)

the piano man
enigmatic identity-less stranger
a face with no code
what magic propels your fingers?
what invisible truths sing from your depths?
what vacant stare meets you in your empty mirror reflection?
what do you see when your eyes meet your fragments in the ebony/ivory veneer?
what races through your mind to speak through your fingers?
what conveyance of soul do you project to our hungry ears,
consuming, absorbing, absolving
your ethereal charm-song,
sustenance found only in your miss-story.


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