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I Am Ready For Love

We haven’t had any music here for ages so:


Spellmeister II


Lets go words
Lets go all images

In vivid silence
String quartets
Sprout pirouettes

Free of intent
Dances and teases
Patterns born of chaos

Warm Caress


Summer shower dusts
Windows with tiny raindrops
A delicate touch

Just So


Where no beauty is
Look to the eye or the mind
Never the beauty

Dover Beach

DOVER BEACH – Matthew Arnold (Published 1867)

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

DOVER BEACH – The Fugs (Released 1967)

Whoever Has Ears (18b)


Köln Concert
Over and over
With you then
Without you
Music you can rely on
Others … Not so much


Shadorma November

Plum Blossom (3b)

Plum Blossom


This blossom
Whence did it emerge?
From the tree?
Pen and ink?
The reader’s mind’s eye … or from
Unborn awareness?


Shadorma November

And A Good Time Was Had By All

When Poetry Works (A Four By Six)


Warp and weft sounds spouting
A lingual waterfall
Calling forth a mist of
Insubstantial rainbows

Not A Car But A Vision


Antara her name she told me.
Sanskrit, with a literal meaning:
“In the middle; in between; within”.
Quietly manifesting this current skin
Magnificent? That and then some!

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