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          Slow
          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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