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          by Martin Louis Woodside

          The piano is slow and it claims
          not to know what’s going on
          how we got stuck here.
          The piano has been resigned
          to this room with a ceaseless
          whipped dog of a melody;
          it claims
          that it loves me.

          Folded, unfolded, encrusted
          in folds, in a rustle of cloth
          some coarse, worn material
          a nun’s habit, a soldier’s
          pea coat casting coteries
          of color sifted and shafted;
          it claims
          not to know.

          The author writes: The second stanza is meant to be more abstract though definitely building off the feeling and more importantly the sound of the first. In the first there's an image and a sound created in specific space( the piano in the room). In the second stanza I wanted to nurture the feeling and build on the sound while removing it from the image and the space: kind of an opening up or blooming of the music, a re-imagining of that feeling or sound which still ends up a bit removed.

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Document last modified on: 08/19/2003

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