let your shadow be at peace
let you look for other valleys
for the river over which the wind
carries a sound between wedges and reeds
where the ancient rapture from the river waters
and the echo roars in them like glory
Odyssey, as your glory from time immemorial
you are stranger as she is and so futile
Find your great abducted unrest
as the divine threat lost on earth warns
of some tremendous creative consciousness
who starts chanting about mortal glory
and then consoling both you and me to death
Wilhelm Friedman was spat upon to the point of pain.
A boozehound died poor… They then admit…
The dude hit the clavier, like the buckish
bios of notable rock stars.
Oy vey, there was a movie as well,
I think the title of it is, in fact,
Wilhelm Friedman, where he
suffers and struggles
He is the father, we are all his children’ (OH GOD!!!!)
but with all those flies, fleas and planktons
that make up life and make up us humans,
like a living organism, dead centre in that life itself.
the habitus of Friedman Bach.
A remarkable musician, an unrivalled composer,
but a heavy, heavy drinker.
Copyright © 2019 by Leila Samarrai Mehdi
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law
I, tomorrow will be dying
a blink of darkness that enshrouds your eye that
become so thick as well
its astrological wells
calling upon us, stars
The essay of the young, tough artists
in a shaky shadiness,
Arcadia’s magic is spreading
south of my ears, east of my scars
I was there
I was there
I flashed and sparkled and glowed
across the empyrean’s chest
let there be dark
let there be dusk
Apollo, are you deaf, or something?
… and icy paths of daylight made me
wrapped in the shrouds,
distant, echoing …
I don’t mind, really.
The death is opened up to me, like a woman