Discussion → First Published Poem

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    Amanda Harris
    Jul 27, 05:29pm

    Piano Dreams

    When it’s good it’s good
    And it’s not good until it’s
    Perfect.
    Your piano against my fingers
    I’m tapping a different type of
    Key
    See this laptop.
    It’s a Macbook.
    It’s as white as your keyboard.
    Piano white for a
    Postmodern piano.

    My pieces are divided into
    Acts that don’t
    Flow
    I think I may be Postmodern.
    I’m an
    Elusive
    Definition.
    My muscles are as defined as my
    Stanzas.
    I do not see Postmodernism.
    Ringing.
    Your ears are
    Ringing an
    Eb.
    You bury them in a pillow to
    Block the buzz.
    You do not hear Postmodernism.
    Anorexic.
    I am
    Starving myself until I
    Recover.
    I have not eaten in days
    I am
    Full on your
    Faux intellectualism
    I do not taste Postmodernism.

    My piano is in the corner.
    It is made of wood.
    It has
    Thick accents along the edges
    It is
    Modeled from the Baroque era.
    I haven’t bought it yet.

    A dream.
    You are
    In the corner
    Playing some piece by
    Marais
    Your tinnitus has made you
    Tone deaf
    You do not know you can’t play.
    Tired.
    I am
    Tired enough to
    Open my eyes and too tired to
    Know I was
    Sleeping.
    I do not dream of you.

    First accepted by Marlow Pearce Weaver, for the anthology In Our Own Words: From a Generation Falsely Labeled.

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    Sam Rasnake
    Jul 27, 10:03pm

    I like the directness of the writing: "See this laptop. / It's a MacBook. / It's as white as your keyboard." ... "I do not see Postmodernism. / Ringing. / You ears are / Ringing an / Eb." The lines pull the reader. Thanks for posting the poem, Amanda. I like it.

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    Amanda Harris
    Jul 27, 10:25pm

    Thanks Sam!

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    Ann Bogle
    Jul 28, 07:15pm

    I enjoy the interlacing of music and writing, piano keyboard and computer keyboard, type pad, the inclusion of body image and food issues as connected (perhaps) to leaving music behind and taking to the keyboard. Terrific poem for me to read today, as I am in and out of music myself, Bb clarinet. *


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