Sonata No. 11 – Op. 22

Come on. There’s a celebration at the house next-door & we’re invited. One flight up. There. See the guy at the piano. He writes this stuff. Yes. Right. That’s him. Of course you can. But not yet. Give him a chance. & while you’re at it pass the pipe. Never can tell. Never can be sure. One thing we’ve learned these startlingly antiseptic days. Can’t trust the fat-man all decked out in his in red-on-white-on-blue pretender-ware. Can’t abide those wielding baseball bats, iron pipe & Nazi Banners. No place for lies & subterfuge. At last count 110,000 dead & climbing. I wonder what B would have said about this ‘grand’ calamity. But. Back to music: Being lulled & lavished & lulled again -Then -Up the stairs. To the kitchen. They’re passing out eclairs & tastes of Fonseca Tawny 20. Still get off on good eats & good drink. Miss family though & friends. Wait. He’s about done &…

Sonata No. 8 – Op. 13

Measured. Relaxed. A singular, gentle moment. & so it continues. Sunlight toying with those gauzy yellow curtains. A white cat licking herself clean. Glide of an eagle. Whisper of affection between lovers. Trip down a slow river on a barge packed with barrels of apples. One sailor on his flute, another, scratches a muted rhythm on the railing. It’s the calm before truth. Or. A lie. Once, in the midst of an argument with his father, the boy mentioned a lipstick stain on his father’s collar. How quiet the house seemed. & another time, in another place, many years later, when the father asked the boy if he was a drug dealer. How noisy the quiet seemed. Don’t you think a little rain would be nice’! Daylilies are in bloom & imagine how many more would … & It was then. The sky did seem to open & rain cascaded down the mountain & The entire meadow leapt with the flight of sparrows & the rustling creatures under the glistening grass. It only look a moment. & Then. All. Was. Quiet.

N0.22 Opus 54 Piano Sonata No. 22 in F (1804)

l walk with you. Yes. & I hold your hand. & Yes. Feel your body vibrate & hum & mine as well. Yes. These walks. Our. Reassuring. Interludes. Take-in the clear spring air. Monarchs & Swallowtails – On the wing. & Crocus & Jonquil & Lilac & Yes. Kites & mini-drones & squirrels & A few audacious rabbits & deer with their fawn & Beggars too. Yes. Homeless & Hungry. Use to walking. Yes. Spring & Winter & Summer & Yes. They’re Here & There. Around lakes & in underpasses & under benches & inside crates & handmade cardboard cocoons. They walk & sleep & count time with chalk on walls & floors & anywhere they’ve sat, or stood or laid down. Yes. Spring. Yes. Respite from winter. Our harsh accounting. Rebirth. For all that breathe & run-their-days-down. Each in the hunt for any kind of calm & quiet & safety & peace. Lines at the missions are longer & as we pass we tremble in the face of our inadequacy. In the face of our Curse & Dilemma: Abject Poverty. Allowed. To. Exist. In the Midst. Of. Excessive Prosperity. How meager our role. How painful our guilt & Yes. Spring has sprung. Nature. Aglow in its pleasures. Listen. On the breeze. Caressing new buds. A challenge: ”Awake” “Awake” “Awake” The call reverberates & Again urges: No more bullshit. No more excuses. Pony-up. It is truly. Our Time Now – Harness & Deliver -The Resolute & Redemptive Response. Do it Or. Be. Forever – Or ... Is it so hard? So distasteful? Wondering. Aloud. Sounds like. Recriminations run a muck. As always – Or so it seems. One man down. Another on fire. Cities & towns. The Constitution of a Country: Mutilated. Muddied. Masticated. At best. Four hundred years. Hate & Despair (The Twins) Planted. Nurtured & Transplanted, Over & Over & Over. Culture to Culture. &. Where there arc flames. There are sources. Where hate & division flourish. There arc sources. Open the paper. Breathe. Last night’s smoke. Can’t hear? Tum off the sirens, The ringing–rounds. of. Automatic Fire. The shrieks of the Desperate & the Assaulted. Ludwig Van would be Disturbed. Troubled. Irate. This Sonata would not be without pain – As it is. A sublime tribute to his musical mischief. A Portrait or Celebration. Enfolding. Around Us. Here’s, Cake. To be cut. & Brandy. To be poured . Step Right Up. For the sake of fiesta. Slake your thirst my sisters, my brothers. With hope & promise fulfilled. Tomorrow will he kinder & gentler. Yes. A choral cheer. & Here. Come. The revelers. A bit. Disheveled. Always. Ready. For. More. So. Pass your glass & Share a toke. There’s plenty more to come. Hurrah & Hurrah & Once again Hurrah. . . & So It Goes. .