![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQp_Ctmbjxo2jZehgL3KxBUtP5xHd4rnIC1unVOFMg9Py02piLAIdzY3bWmBn5GVtB4TVkI27A_cJuNFomzTccBHSVHVgeYvkwd0_Fvyjo5q-2my7V59azE6FaHNQGpWXLNmNIA/s400/Analect2.424x.jpg)
23 January 2009. Rain on street. Older woman in dark shoes, dark coat, looks up slightly as she walks by. Tim in hair salon--pointing emphatically through window--then once again, followed by gesture of lifting a cup to drink. Coffee jar balanced on gray Honda roof...
Re-animation, all the rivulets and streams. Mississippi John Hurt, his beautiful knobby hands, left thumb loose as he slides the chords up and down the neck. Story of how he learned--his mother's beau--the fellow with the guitar. Approached in the middle of the night, trying the notes--almost in silence...
Resistance and deluge, a conversation re-begun. Somewhere in between... Maybe more a song...
No comments:
Post a Comment