Tuning the Beast
I prepare contingencies for all outcomes. No.
Iβve prepared for this: a body. A key. As if
that cloth draped a leg. Not a leg
but the representation of a limb.
Another fragment, brought forth and opened.
Not a limb, an arrow, perhaps, pointing to the sea.
An oar, brought inland and unrecognized
for its purpose, directed or aimless. No, not an oar.
A neck, polished, and a chamber, with strings.
Repetition, fixation. Position. Intent.
I pluck and strum, pick and stroke, maintaining
space, steel above wood, bending notes,
moving sound in time, purposefully, from
this place to that, the left hand, creating,
conversing. The right, reasoning, controlling,
burning its past to the present, allowing,
preventing, rendering beat, consistent
motion, shaping only this moment, this now.
“Tuning the Beast” was drafted during the August 2015 30-30 Challenge, thanks to Sunshine Jansen’s sponsorship. It subsequently appeared in The Blue Nib in September 2016.
I never learnt to play guitar, however your eloquent poetic description, makes me wish that I should’ve.
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I’m not much of a musician, but I do enjoy thinking about the process of making music.
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Stunning poem. I like the way your poetic mind is able to inhabit the richness of the present. Your writing has an aura of awareness that I deeply admire.
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Thank you, Kenneth. I like to observe the “little things,” those that might not be readily noticed by everyone. That is where poetry begins for me.
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I was delighted by this then and am even more so now. Love the way you bend those notes, RO. π
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Thanks, SJ! There’s so much contained within a slurred note!
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Beautiful poem.. makes me want to hear you play..
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Thank you. You really don’t want to hear me play. π
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Haha! Well your writing is that good π
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There’s about 15 seconds of my playing at the beginning and end of this recording: https://robertokaji.com/2017/07/25/recording-of-magic-3/
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Thank you !
I will listenπ
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It won’t hurt much.
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πππ
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Hey! You sound fabulous π
Iβd love to hear more
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You’re very kind. Thank you!
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Put some music up π
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Well, maybe one of these days, if I can figure out how to get a decent recording. π
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I love the title of your poem and how you’ve described creating poetry. For it’s true; we grab an oar and row out to sea… then that oar becomes something else as we pluck and produce a symphony. Superb. πΈπΆπ£π»π
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Thanks, Rose. I often start with one intent, and end up far, far away. Funny how that is. π
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It’s always a journey, and you’re right, Robert; you never know where or how far you land. That makes it all the more exciting and frustrating, as well. π
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Mostly exciting and interesting. But sometimes I wonder how in the world we get back to the beginning…
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The Mandolin is such a pretty instrument and one of my favorites to play. Nice postπ
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Thank you, Donatello. I need to play mine more often.
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