Baby-grand Piano-forte


Piano.Robert DickowBy Julie Flanders


You thrive in the chords of distraction

That move your life

Down the tracks

And lead you


Through your history

To the music of yourself


There are so many books

On the shelf

You can hardly count

The ways

To measure jazz


How do you measure music?

Music is what is left

When we let go

Of the need to explain it


How do you measure pain?

You see the old railroad crossing


And the wires

Strung across your town

To hold things together

On some level

Where we all fall down

Where none of us can see

Where we all meet

Or fall apart

As the world beats itself


With its own heart


Is art a life or life an art?

A sudden, dead possum

Cuts through your awareness

Like a dull knife

That will break the skin of the day

Till you cry

An animal music

And let reality in


Where does the four-chord want to go next

Where does the melody travel

On the breath

What is the musical motive

The loco-


In your train of thought


You are catching your breath

From the death

Of the white possum

Who lies in sacrifice

At your feet

Was his death victorious

Or was it a defeat

Can the life of a possum

Ever be



For a moment

Like a man

Who stumbles through a cemetery

Into the funeral of a stranger

You are a sudden friend


The mortal and eternal changes

Of an ending

That connects you

To him


How many conversations

Move across the wires above you

How many people


And love you


You remember yourself

As a young boy

On the same track

You breathe deep


You can never go back

You’re awake for a moment

At the crossroads

Where you live

With your music still

Inside you

And a fervent wish to give

The world your song


Photo by Robert Dickow

About octoberprojectmusic

Julie Flanders Marina Belica Emil Adler
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