from musical compositions by Kirk Whipple
She is there to lift us out of obscureness.
Portraits of sunset,
ocean cloudscapes dreaming
a dressage of neon rain,
a party in the other room
the nightingale singing,
a steady flame,
the two of us at sunrise.
walking in the starry clusters of sand
and the burden becomes another
Silencio de negra.
grace notes outside the key edible.
the patterns on a lake,
we forget the paths.
what weve lost touch of.
We have nothing but ourselves
In our circuituous wanderings
we carry the burden of freedom forward.
because she is the light to guide us,
teaching us to begin again.
arpeggios of water waltz
cusp lean into the wind
trust it to hold you
crisp bells before the storm
the hills, come to the sea, wave/rocks flight of birds across snow
clear message before the storm
the breath to sing
sighting land like Columbus
the clue of birds on the horizon
riding out the tune cresting each wave.
cross-rhythms like a shiver of ear candy.
return to first field
stepping up each measured step
As this rhythm bubbles up
the parched earth
Those things deep inside
step up, fall back, begin again.
chill of spine, chickenskin
syncopation of the pianists,
short burst rearranges.
the pulse finding us deep inside
he's growing surer but also more faint
as the path becomes clear
deep beginnings the end of stuttering colors,
a free beginning, creating the concept of darkness, of sound
Dark to light/lyrical matter-of factly, no big swell or crescendo like in the movies.
(What would a patriot dream of,
or is she a patriots dream dreaming a person?)
I am the endless stranger inside the depths of night
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Updated: January 25, 2001 (KB)
Copyright 2001 The Unconservatory, All Rights Reserved.