Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Why I like Al Tuck

He arranges three glasses
of whisky on the piano stool. Then
the piano player wants to sit
down, so he carefully arranges
them on a small cushioned seat.
He leans back on a high chair
wearing a velvet jacket that shows
his wrists. He is concentrating on
a small brown guitar.
And he sings a slow song that
I thought had the line "beneath
the snow the unborn christ"
but was of course "unborn grass",
though I still imagine jesus
lying quietly under the snow.
And he sings this song so quietly
and long that it is only late into the
eighth minute of it that we
recognize it as "Snowbird".
Spread your tiny wings and fly away.

1 Comments:

Anonymous karla said...

and as always the best memories are the ones you don't realize you're forming until you're knee deep, neck deep, within them...

eight minutes in you realize; by then you are already, irrevokably caught in the moment.

the holidays are full of such moments. glad you're writing them down.

8:26 p.m.  

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