I have a problem with making up words. Sometimes when I write, there is a word that fits so perfectly inside, I would have never known it wasn’t real if not for that little squiggly red line below it. It’s not just an accident, not just a fluke. I know, because it happens too often. This made up words simply appear and no matter how hard a try, a real word just doesn’t mean the same thing.
Anyways, to the poem. It’s not a very spectacular poem, but the idea behind it is fantastic. I bought a piano keyboard the other day. And it is wonderful. It’s funny because I have an electric guitar that I still can’t play very well, and someone else wonders why I would by a piano when I still can’t even play the guitar. But…I’m sort of hoping to learn both at the same time, they are my two favorite instruments, and wouldn’t that just be a beautiful union? It’s my life, and if I want to spend those green, worthless pieces of paper for happiness, more power to me. I was sitting up in my room this morning, slowly making my way to page three of ‘how to play piano’. Page three is where you begin to use two hands and HOT DAMN it’s hard. I sat there trying to play ‘Oh When The Saints Come Marching In’ which they like to call ‘Dem Saints’ go figure. It was insanely difficult, and quite a mind exercise. I mean it, at one point I was taking a break every five minutes because my brain was exhausted. Forcing both of my hands to suddenly grow brains was quite the task. But I swear, when I finally got to the point where I could play the song, I was so happy. I just played it over and over, mistakes and all. This stupid little children song, it was the union of two hands to create and make beautiful music. So, maybe this poem isn’t terribly awe-inspiring, but I really enjoy the idea behind it, and I hope you will experience this same sort of new joy.
the marriage of two hands
playing in perfect union
yet separately in their own brain sets
hearing the call of the other
a mating call of music
trinkling down the white bones
disturbing the sensitive strings
making noise and hearing noise
yet so in tune with their own nature
their own sound and tick of the metronome
these two hands
with fingertips lightly touching the bones
indirectly touching each other.