Ambient grand
the repertoire of fingers
is remembered
hand to keys to hand,
first by-passing consciousness,
as much of our life, it's true,
possesses us,
using our senses for
oh so many purposes;
and we learn when to intervene
(repression is our veto)
and when to just let be,
allow the notes or words or brush float free,
the jingle sing itself in jollity.
..............
YOU ARE READING
Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
