Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's Bête Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Saturday, January 19, 2008

[The grimness of January slammed me today and I’ve wanted nothing more than to write through a sweet Bach suite. I had listened to, and written through, the 5th Cello Suite more than a week ago, but my thoughts were preoccupied with my reading at the time and the writing was a hash. The minor key is beautiful; the prelude is, by almost 3 minutes, the longest piece in the whole series so far, in a sort of Toccata and Fugue structure. I loved it very much tonight, the whole suite. (Late Friday night, now the small hours of Saturday.)]

leave me hanging over the tree, over the moon, leave me desolate, bereft, glorious in my loneliness, my loveliness, hot tears on a hot face, and yet there is nothing to complain of, the complaint has no cause, it burns, it singes, it sings, it furls and throws

thrown! onto the hard earth, I land on my toes,
land on the earth on the land on the land on the earth
land on the earth, earth on the land,
hand on the hearth, ear in my heart, heat --
heat in my ear, heat in my hearth, earth --
earth in my heat in my heart in my hearth --
hear -- hear -- hear -- do you not hear?
no! I do not! my ears are stopped to --
to so much of what is sweet to listen --
I write you, dear beloved, of my heart,
I write you, only to say, to say, only to say,
only to say, what I must, that is to say,
I write you, only to say, this

mistress miscellany
mister mist




I wish --
a horse --
a hoarse whisper --
listen --
you talk of what concerns me,
and worries furrow the earthy brow

if you must, and you must, and you shall,
and so, do, you do, with vigor and vinegar,
strong and sour, tart on the tongue, tangy --
the must, the muscle, the force

everything is gone now
everything’s here
and it all comes rushing
slow and deliberate
it all comes, elbows firm
comes opening through the unsignifying word
the word without meaning
the word

the word without meaning, guarded like a treasure,
a pearl without price, a tumbled jewel,
a polished stone, a sliver of silver brook,
a babble of geese, of bees in their flower,
legs full of pollen, making fertile,
the brilliant buzz, the colorful buzz,
the glorious buzz, the tumbling buzz,
the loquacious buzz, the what-a-great buzz,
the wow what-a-buzz, everything’s a-buzz,
it was, in its fuzziness, in its funniness,
in its because, its just because,
its wise and great because,
its sweet and kind because

trill me thrill me over-frill me
fill me skill me someday kill me
live by the rhyme, die by the rhyme,
die by the wordplay, play by the wordplay,
happy to play in this grim and glorious world play,
happy in my sweet sorrow

Bach Cello Suite No. 5 in C minor, 1. Prelude, 2. Allemande, 3. Courante, 4. Sarabande, 5. Gavottes I and II, 6. Gigue

[Writing-through listening lays bare the works, the words, the word works. Makes vulnerable. Reveals commonplacenesses and surprise.]

-- The couple at the table in the right foreground may be Bach and his second wife, Anna Magdalena, according to this scholar.
(Click on the image to enlarge it.)
I like the satyr lounging on the floor below them.


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