On Music
The most fun my fingers can have is when they
twiddle the keys, fingers going round and round amid
black and white follicles
jungles
of notes like towers
chords like suns
feeling for the right spot
to sit on the right spot
the fingers don’t forget the flowering pleas
to the pleading towers. Ancient note structures
Get Arthur Rosch’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
float in the desert. Across the dunes camel tracks
vanish in the wind.. Natural heritage from generations
lurching rhythms hustle elbows knees flying.
I can puff the keys with different parts of my fingers.
A brush to the side of my callused index; a flurry across
the black notes. Hands are wing- like in their facile adaptions.
No disorder survives. Music resolves most of the time
in harmony or obvious discord but it resolves
it doesn’t leave you hanging there wondering
what happened? Did he walk out on stage
and break a bottle over his head?
Remember this always: it takes two bottles over the head
to qualify as music.
