Sunday, November 20, 2011

If He Rests It’s to Wind the Metronome or Sip His Cup of Ice . . .

This is the slowest week of the year in Blegsylvania, I'm picking up my daughter at BWI this evening and have plans most nights this week and all day and night this coming weekend, which isn't why I'm incapable of forming a half-coherent paragraph on my thoughts regarding Occupy's meanings, re: my full support for it v my half-assed participation in it. Perhaps the slowest week of the year in Blegsylvania is the time to post inchoate thoughts, though busy weeks in Blegsylvania have never been an impediment to such practice. In any case, I've watched this dozens of times in the past week, this is now BLCKDGRD - Theme Song 4:


D. Nurkse

After death, my father   
practices meticulously   
until the Bach is seamless,   
spun glass in a dream,   
you can no longer tell   
where the modulations are,   
or the pedal shifts
or the split fingerings . . .

if he rests
it’s to wind the metronome   
or sip his cup of ice . . .

but who is the other old man   
in the identical flannel gown,   
head cocked, listening
ever more critically,
deeper in the empty room?


  1. I saw that PPP survey last week.

    It reminded me of how our corporate press was able to make the deficit our number one problem in public opinion polls relative to unemployment (our real number one problem, as recognized by the public back in 2009) through massive repetition of the same lies.

    I'm almost sure the War Criminal Post's fake economist, Robert Samuelson begin concern-trolling about it in January of 2009. (I can't find a link, though...maybe if I had Lexis?)

  2. The other old man in the flannel gown is the Grandpa I never knew,
    dead before I was born.

  3. Sorry I'm late, but I had to katehi the press.