Virtuosi clinging to the prospect of a mother/father boundary refuse to play in tune, refuse not to have played in tune. What ingredient laces former recipes to make sleep non-denominational. That said, verbatim flings cost money when their skewed inflections scamper out of bounds so what was meant differs from what the hearers (naive and intact) declare they heard. "It was nothing," insists the concert mistress. But we know differently. The way she touched the hand of the conductor. All those needlings swelling in her eyes. Binoculars tell what voice won't, as the body lacks defense against at least six senses. Gemological societies defend their prize possessions others might desire to wear. It made no sense the handlers of those instruments consistently would fail to get along. As a rich man, he seemed unable to uninstall the program that had tamed him. The allure of quicksand formed a pretense that itis not the most direct route downward. Insufficent to be shimmering in some field then flounder as a child. Abandonment remains contagious. Those who have been left retain the gift of leaving in a way they do not feel themselves. Of finding ones to love who do. So rifts that canit make sense contribute to recidivism. Language sharpens harsher language. Cinders with the sun on extrasensory small faces that guard morning like a near-term darkness barely understood although completely frequent anymore.

Youth music, foreignness of the applause, solos contiguous and stitched together into something known, unsharable

Sheila E. Murphy | Stagnation
Contents | Mudlark No. 8