Frank Corcoran

Whack ! Your flies are enemy number one for the composer writing outside the cool house. Wrap the “Rome” section of the Corriere, your only weapon of death; develop backhand, stealth, stalk. Write ( to be continued, of course ) : ” Who am I ? The time will be getting short. Would you mind shutting off that awful music ? ” Licence to begin at my beginning. I know now that I was not present at my beginning. As I was pro- and created. The eyes were shuttered, shutters pulled down, no Peeping Tom´s eyrie as they did. Must e-mail this unfortunate Author of all this “Who ? ” stuff in a flurry of key-work, key-words and key-notes. So who is uttering this self-directed imperative? I am my e-fingers? Oh for the digital author! Who always wanted to e-say the folling, never found the e-word: ” Well, y / I / ou a´(m)r´nt too bad . No!”
Don´t stop swatting while sweating. Swat fly; sweat tones. Which Me scrapes which barrel´s ( lovely ) bottom ?