Post by mfwilkie on Nov 24, 2007 18:58:54 GMT -5
Third Revision
I swear ocean air was my mother's milk,
and that full moon, high tide melodies
bind my DNA with harmonic
flexibility. To me,
there is no such thing
as dissonance from improvising seagulls.
But don't be fooled
by the implication of language.
There is also pain.
And pain, like an upper structure triad
in modal jazz, needs the introduction of contrast
for release, for cutting tension. It is against
the uneven metronomics of the sea
where I go to handle the bitchwork of grief.
Original Draft
I swear ocean air was my mother's milk,
and that full moon, high tide melodies
bind my DNA with harmonic
flexibility. The dissonance
of improvising seagulls?
Compatable chords more than annoyance.
Pain, like an upper structure triad
in modal jazz,
needs the introduction of contrast for
release, for cutting tension. So,
it's the beach, for a natural cure—
heart and mind musing, mending,
the uneven metronomics of the sea, company.
It's a Free Willie kind of cocoon, feeding me relief.
I swear ocean air was my mother's milk,
and that full moon, high tide melodies
bind my DNA with harmonic
flexibility. To me,
there is no such thing
as dissonance from improvising seagulls.
But don't be fooled
by the implication of language.
There is also pain.
And pain, like an upper structure triad
in modal jazz, needs the introduction of contrast
for release, for cutting tension. It is against
the uneven metronomics of the sea
where I go to handle the bitchwork of grief.
Original Draft
I swear ocean air was my mother's milk,
and that full moon, high tide melodies
bind my DNA with harmonic
flexibility. The dissonance
of improvising seagulls?
Compatable chords more than annoyance.
Pain, like an upper structure triad
in modal jazz,
needs the introduction of contrast for
release, for cutting tension. So,
it's the beach, for a natural cure—
heart and mind musing, mending,
the uneven metronomics of the sea, company.
It's a Free Willie kind of cocoon, feeding me relief.