Long Glissandos Poems

Microtonal mayhem
Triple concerto for sirens, drones & bullets
groaning ghosts pluck piano strings
extramusical praise: present (& past/future)
we're going around & round (sings the flute)
0:00 constant vivace
Alcotts double IV. played
corrupt chaotic fourth (9?)
Ives=crusty old coot
percussive violence
stimulus: introductory...

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Can We “Feel” Music?
By Carol Geyer


Can we “feel” music? Can the notes cool or warm us?
Soothing like green aloe balm, or warm as flaming Yule logs,
 or as majestic as a fully leafed oak?
 ...

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AntiPoem 31 “Rita Montero”

(Poet’s instruction: Kindly play “Ay, Mama Inez” 
by Rita Montero while reading this AntiPoem)

a red trolley finds Ebbets Field behind a pigtown ditch
significant hotdogs and burnt singles melt into the pitch
Jackie Robinson...

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// This is my tribute to the many blessings that music brings to our
lives. I know many of you share this enthusiasm and gratitude. //

Appreciating an amazing artform: allegro, andante, or adagio -
Bach, Beethoven, Brahms:...

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Do you gurgle, grunt, and gripe,
grind the soft bones of thought dry?

You need some orchestration,
some instrumental tuning.
Play with those ad hoc glottalized vibes,
harmonize.

The body, that geomungos collection
of agrarian earth animalcules
which work for themselves alone,
tilling mud,...

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I am to him a Stradivarius, a treasured violin
His bow expertly caresses my supple strings
My body moans when tucked beneath his chin
Revving to his rhythmic pulse, my heart sings

I am the delicate ivory he strokes...

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In

after going all night off the map to dawn
on the newly opened Metaphysical Gridway
I am awakened by the black buzz of flies
and a persistent hiss of escaping steam
in my chest a hole where the piston...

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Viola Fuller

1879 – 1909

For it is written in solemn Chinese ideography,
That two women under one roof spells trouble.
For indeed my life found trouble
And death quite early due to influenza.
I spent my leisure hours in China...

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Like tremolos and glissandos in music,
those crescendos and decrescendos in volume;
there’s observance of discipline and yet,
at the same time, there’s sense of freedom.
similar to life how it’s gonna be lived, so far.

Inroads within the wake...

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Carefully her inner eyes glistened
As the music proceeded with utmost preference
The swift glissandos had cured and decorated her existence bare
Naked, she looked all alone
Beautifully stunned in awe appreciation of the “musical dew of silence”
The food...

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Walls breathe insistent hunger,
red as the inside of a split pomegranate,
richer still where the tallow has melted,
slick as the fat from a burnt offering. 

Scarpia does not eat.
He savors—sounds of gristle 
snapping in the next...

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I looked out on the gloom of one dark day

as rain poured down. Glissandos my ear caught!

What joy streamed forth from sweet chords I heard play.

The source of them excitedly I sought.


My searching eyes at...

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Emilia In Romagna

Somewhere a lost little girl
Is crying in her bedroom closet
Because she can’t hear
Her mama
Moving about anymore
She can see dim shapes
Mama stored stuff in here
Luggage scarfs tennis racquets
Croquet mallets 
Boxes of old photographs
Useless 
Rubbish
Apparently...

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