I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
“Live in the layers,
not on the litter.”
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.
Meredith Monk and Theo Bleckmann, “Hocket” (M. Monk, from Facing North), live, Santa Fe, 2004
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lagniappe
musical thoughts
With the music, it’s about opening up space for people and making something that they can experience in themselves, in their own way. It could be memories. It could be that they feel more themselves when they hear the music. They feel more alive. They feel that magic. That’s what I’m trying for.
Ernst Reijseger (cello) with Harmen Fraanje (organ), “Shadow” (Cave of Forgotten Dreams), live
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lagniappe
art beat
Timothy H. O’Sullivan (1840-1882), Pyramid Lake, Nevada, 1867
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Each week brings new discoveries. Yesterday, on the radio (WFMU, Give the Drummer Some), I heard this cellist for the first time. This photographer I bumped into Wednesday at the Art Institute of Chicago. Next week?