POEM: variations

variations [(variations) variations]

I don’t understand
(I’m listening)

I like the empty spaces

I imagine Glenn Gould

I remember the night
on the floor (with Bill Evans)

feeling like Buddha

I’m searching for the morning star
in the surface of the lake

23 January 2013
Auburn, AL

/ / /

The version above is the third version of this poem. Here’s the second:

variations (variations)

I don’t understand what I’m listening to
but I like the way it fills the empty spaces

I imagine Glenn Gould hunched over the piano
recording take after take

I remember the night I finally got Bill Evans —
sitting on the floor of my studio apartment

in Tucson, listening to Sunday At The Village Vanguard
and feeling like Buddha on seeing the morning star

I’m searching for that same enlightenment
with the Goldberg variations

but so far the essence of the music eludes me
leaving me with glimpses of the surface of the lake

but never the depths of the water

23 January 2013
Auburn, AL

/ / /

Josh Rutner wrote a variation on this poem called “Two Song.” You’ll find it at joshrutner.com.

This is my second try with this poem today. Here’s the first version:

variations

I don’t understand what I’m listening to
but I like the way it fills the empty spaces

            (Glenn Gould is hunched over the piano
            recording take after take until the perfect

            piece is born, delivered into the world with
            a minimum of fuss but a lifetime of preparation)

I went through a phase where I was collecting
classical music, guided by a book I bought

I drove to work with symphonies and concerti
crashing or floating from my car speakers

            (Glenn Gould and Bill Evans are, to me,
            two sides of a coin, one interpreting, one

            improvising, both somewhat odd geniuses,
            to whom no one ever truly got close)

I listened to hundreds of hours of music
and certainly found a lot to love

            (I remember the night I finally got Bill Evans —
            I was sitting on the floor of my studio apartment

            in Tucson, listening to Sunday At The Village Vanguard
            and feeling like Buddha on seeing the morning star)

but like so much of my life, I think the essence
of the music eluded me, leaving me

with glimpses of the surface of the lake
but never the depths of the water

yet here I am again, Goldberg Variations
in the air around me as I search for answers

23 January 2013
Auburn, AL