Listening to Mahler’s Fifth

Cover of Planet of the Blind....man and dog....

Perhaps as a poet said, there really is a tale lit by the soft light of sleep. “Perhaps” grows around the house like birches. Perhaps there’s a meadow where the dead dogs frolic. I’ll never give up on perhaps. A fritillary lands on the unpainted porch, having returned just now to earth through a black sieve.

**

It rains in the apple trees
Where a crow settles
In a dome of blossoms—

I watch him
With my clear head
The way blind people do…

**

But the music. Nobility. Dignified growth of the man. No more hunched shoulders.

And Mahler, always an intruder, never welcomed, little Bohemian, as a boy, conducting the birch trees…

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: