Wednesday, October 08, 2008

the parting of crickets and bees...

accordionblindman

it was strange how it began, he sitting always in the park, one hand resting on top of the instrument, the other resting on the keys, and he unable to really make it sing. he never really understood the bellows, or the pulling necessary to make it sound, so he sat there daily, moving his fingers up and down the white keys, making only clicking sounds to the world, but music always sounding inside of him. he sat there, like a statue, living half a life, clicking away, and every time anyone passed by the park, he was there, and the clicking, well it sounded a bit like crickets. then, as it happened she wandered nearby holding a guitar, not that she could play it, she was taking it somewhere, i know not where, but somewhere. as she carried it, the wind played a bit on the strings like an aeolian harp, and as she passed him and his clicking, he could hear the strings vibrations, at least a tiny bit. he was blind, and the strings buzzings sounded a bit like bees. he knew not what was around him, but he spoke gently, as if into the air. 'i hear bees, with their transparent wings, and i know what that means'. she stopped to look at him and she listened for a bit to his fingers moving up and down the keys. the clicking sound, well, it moved her in some way, so she stood just behind him and shifted the guitar to catch more wind on the strings. the strings vibrated a bit louder, and the man began to be a bit agitated. the bees were coming closer, and he felt a quiet yearning for the sweetness of their honey. at this point she began to strum the guitar, every once in awhile, between blowings on the strings by the wind. the old guitar was quite out of tune, but he could feel within himself something was right. he whispered something to her, that i did not hear, but the most remarkable thing happened next. for some reason, he grabbed the left side of his accordion and pulled it out as long as it would go, creating an extended rectangle of the bellows almost twice the size of the instrument. as he pressed the sides back together, a wheeze and a whine escaped, and over the landscape a small wind blew from the cracks and holes. and you can even see in this photo, that the trees behind them began to dance from the breeze. for a moment, perhaps even for two or three days, their faces made gentle smiles, and you can just about see them if you look closely. and then, as though their time was up, they parted, and the landscape became quiet again, and he remained making crickets as before.

nietzsche, in his seventy-five aphorisms said, "in parting.- not how one soul comes close to another but how it moves away shows me their kinship and how much they belong together." somehow in all this one senses he was right...

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4 Comments:

Blogger Jeremy said...

wow - that is one hell of a spooky haunting postcard! He seems so self-possessed yet distant and disinterested, a relative of Adolf Hitler's perhaps. While she is so serious and doesn't look like a guitar player.

Beautiful poem

jeremy

2:21 AM  
Blogger sroden said...

yes, a bit scary they are! indeed as you can read, she's not a guitar player but a guitar holder... :-)

1:04 PM  
Blogger Dave Lovely said...

they do not play things as they are, that's for sure...

1:37 PM  
Anonymous pigshitpoet said...

you have captured the essence of all creative spirit in your writing of this haunting visual melody. i would love to have coffee with you some day...

10:15 PM  

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