Schumann in My Life.
A door that opens in and further in
..some stairs... a lift that goes to high and higher still
The sky...and higher still no birds are to be seen...
A room as large as Jericho....
The chairs are angular
And hominids glued bent over a million desks
With screens of flicker light .
A room... tongue tied and muted of all sound
Except the tap tap sound
The agitated digit keys,
Clone after clone alone..
The body withers on the bone
I have to leave....
Hinges and handles..I’m on the go
The door it opens in but also out..
To city corridors
So much electric flow slides thru the brain
Illumination without light.
The rain slants in
Cuts at the knees..the breeze is vicious too
A bitter breath..dis-ease.
There’s no one that I know...but there are faces .
Artists long dead have painted them ...
...and now they’re on the street
Last Day of Pompeii ,
Munch’s crowded crucifix
Burghers from Amsterdam
A girl with Renoir in her cheeks
Egyptian Queens ..Assyrians
van Eyck’s smart Cavalier..
The women of Vermeer
They all float by
They did not die... they’re here
Just as they were before
When city streets were buttercups and fields.
But now ...the pressing throng
The pulsing crush... the mob... the multitude
The You and I..we are the human hoard ...
The flock of hurried feet.
The noise.. the din... the pandemonium
I need..I need
A Fantasy in C...
Where is the Schumann in my life ?
Kristine Byrne April 2013