O at the Edges

Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.

Exhaling, I Get Dizzy

Posted on July 30, 2020 by robert okaji

Exhaling, I Get Dizzy

From one note flattened
to the next floating whole,

textured with rustling
stalks and the sweet odor

of dried grasses, you
detach, drift off.

What colors this tone, you
ask. What sings my day?

9 thoughts on “Exhaling, I Get Dizzy”

grumpygorman on July 30, 2020 at 8:32 am said:

lovely. re-posted here:
https://grumpysgiftspoetry.org/2020/07/30/exhaling-i-get-dizzy-robert-okaji-o-at-the-edges/

thanks for sharing your words.

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- robert okaji on July 30, 2020 at 10:15 am said:
  
  Thank you for reblogging, Anthony.
  
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TheArtist_JayMoraShihadeh on July 30, 2020 at 11:15 am said:

Nice poem!

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- robert okaji on July 30, 2020 at 11:30 am said:
  
  Thanks very much!
  
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Daedalus Lex on July 30, 2020 at 11:42 am said:

Nice, tight, flat, and floating! Keep singing!

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- robert okaji on July 30, 2020 at 7:58 pm said:
  
  Thanks, Gary. I always seem to be flat on that damned flute.
  
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  - Daedalus Lex on July 30, 2020 at 8:13 pm said:
    
    🙂
    
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Sun Hesper Jansen on July 30, 2020 at 8:32 pm said:

Yes… All of my instruments — violin, guitar, ukulele, piano — have such a pronounced degree of craft and mediation. But to have such immediate transference from plant to song… that is something!

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- robert okaji on August 1, 2020 at 12:17 pm said:
  
  I admire instrument makers. I can’t imagine how it would be to transform wood and steel into such beauty. And bamboo flutes! They’re absolutely lovely in their imperfection.
  
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