Thursday, 9 March 2017

Red & Blue


By degrees a heart's revealed,
drawing winter about itself.

I can be cold, it beats,
Decelerate. Turn blue, contract
'til such a time as science
guarantees this bruise made better.

'Til then I'm polar.
Glacial in my spartan chamber,
mere echoes of my cadence
to evidence what was.

But come, little heart,
turn into the sun.
The eye adjusts and Spring
awaits on the wide horizon.


The Chiming of a Perfect Chord

Day Three You can (add9) to an A minor and it peals, like a big, simple agony. I always knew that chord I think, before I held the axe in my...