Frank Corcoran

Did it look thus a thousand years ago , the Cimini a purple gold and all trees aghast, a-hush ? – Before the great heat is even awake ? All Haikus still asleep ?
Today is still my empty bucket of water waiting to be filled by what ( free ? Unfree ? ) human decisions? Which wary steps of this knowing I ? A few musical thoughts , wisps of intervallic shapes , a banal cadence or two, vague feelings of wanting to milk this blue golden dawn… add X and Y to cart. Hot voices. It will get hot , hot enough to stop the Birds´ Matutinal Chorus, then more. Hot stones you could bake griddle cake on.
Now it is just lovely.