Music in Prague

The home of Don Giovanni
Was a favorite for Mozart
Where his great opera premiered,
But his ghost takes holiday,
So the singers and artists
Make smaller events happen
In a baroque church chancel,
An art deco basement hall,
Or even a castle moat.

The crowds are not crowds at all,
But our appreciation
Gets them back for an encore:
A Jazz version of Brahms
With a mezzo soprano
Who sings scat like she's on fire
Dressed in a little black dress
With a quartet backing up
An improv out of heaven.

God only likes live music,
She does not own a player;
Resemblance is never real
And digital perfection
Is only a goal of Satan,
For the Lord sings and dances
And calls us to do the same
Not sitting on our asses
But list'ning live or sitting in.


Note: Prague is a marvelous old city.
The concerts we've enjoyed are wonderful
but lightly attended. Friend Doug once
observed that too few people go out to the
local scene. When we get back, forget
cable and Facebook. Live is better.

Four Thousand Colors

Heat and fire and silica, soda and lime
Combine like alchemy in Waldsassen.
They color with the sun here in Bavaria.

Decades of practiced hands and mouths
Turn molten glass into sheets of beauty.
Four thousand colors are born in their furnace.

Across day and night the kilns are tended,
Loaded and churned until the blend is achieved.
Everyone has their duty in this peculiar art.

Twirling out melt on hollow rods, they sling them
To others who blow out sheer cylinders of grace.
Industrial ballet in gauntlets and boots.

Each piece is a human project in glass
The extension of sweat, intention, skill and more sweat.
Unreproducible, irreplaceable, unique.

They color with the sun at Lambert's.

http://www.lamberts.de/impressionen.html

Late in the Platz

We stood in a platz at the end of the day
My son and I in high debate.
What ugly buildings, I complained,
And he complained of my complaint.
It all depends, was his retort.
Of course, he's right, but so am I:

The building in question had no soul,
Angle and pattern of grey on grey.
The deadening geometry of perfection
Repeating instrcution to an unwieldy universe:
There is no exception just right on right,
Wrong being other than ninety degree.

But who's to say there's wrong in rightness?
It's only beholding eyes that makes
What's in a soul or other judgments,
And that's not for me to say, he says.
The younger man pokes fun at his father,
Returning the older man's own past remark.

We've each been on both sides of the matter,
In taste there can be no argument.
But then we confront the outcome of others,
Unpleasing in aspect we decide on the spot.
Conjuring rules of good and commandment,
And summon the gods who confirm our lament.

The irony plays across his mind and mine,
By turns we recall each's own opposition;
Who's own offense is most offensive,
Or when which side was taken when.
Like other joists between us joined,
This one ends in the humilty of humor.

For the final winner is fine Augustiener,
A bierhalle named for the patron of Hippo.
The casks of ale so wonderously barreled,
In kind expectation of libations poured out
To further the arguments of old and new
Found among tables of happy participants.

The triumphant agreement for the lay architects
Is the juxtaposition of the country in question.
These hard angles of precision relenting
To the gartens and halles where the life is well lived.
Though daily sequestered by the affected efficient,
The heart of this people is as round as the keg.

Beauty Consumed

You don't visit Munich so much as eat your way across it
gathering as people do around picnic tables
for the most amiable of meals
and conversations
about many

things like you remember from holiday meals with family
reconstituted specifically for the occasion
when months of life and living
needed recounting
for all

with recollections of laughter and tears made more fluid
not only by the uncorked and uncapped
as by butter and roux
made thick

by the artist who was hidden by pans and clouds of heat
whose own satisfaction is the sated
palate and empty plate of
others

which reminds us as God may be Father Son and Holy Spirit
and all those other guilted holy monograms
before that and other things,
God cooks.

But First, A Wedding in Pittsburgh

Mars, PA to Marstrasse, De.


Ryan and Leanna wed with ease
and grace like they are
which made the sign stand out so.

Between planes and plans from there to here
was a sign for a town
named after the God of War.

Would you want that name for your home
and what is the prize
or pride for belligerence?

Should I take thought or care or just drive
and make the transfer
without the rush and delay?

But there was time to follow the thought
and take the turn to Mars
thinking it was about right.

How many times did we just drive on
and give it a thought
but kept on about the next.

Always next. Always Next. Always NEXT.
Screw the next damn thing.
I am getting off for Mars.

A right turn and then an easy yield
turned into downtown
without even a wormhole.

This simple Pennsylvania town
was less important
for being there as being a stop.

God knows if Mars could become Munich,
good people gone bad,
about the time of Adolf.

For the people of Munich are good
like anyplace else
and kind to the stranger, too.

Neither do they speak martian on Mars
nor Marienplatz,
just the language of the day.

Both are not life altering places
if you hope for it
but good lanes off the next road.

Summer Hymn

Praise my soul, the King of heaven; to his feet thy tribute bring;

Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven, ever-more his praises sing;

Alleluia, Alleluia! Praise the everlasting King.                                               

In a time of recreation; summer grace on summer day,

Be within our hearts and bodies, while at home or far away.

Alleluia, Alleluia! Praise the God who blesses play.

Summer beauty all around us; breaking wave and gardens green;

Grow in us a deeper reverence while we live this holy scene.

Alleluia, Alleluia!  Praise God for a light routine.

 

Quiet days of warmest weather; lightening bug and butterfly,

Offer us a  slower living, breathing space for God most high.

Alleluia, Alleluia! Love in stillness multiply.
 

Seasons change but not your favor; Lord your grace is of alway

Soon the leaves will change their color; all your beauty on display.

Alleluia, Alleluia! Love us through each changing day.

Vacate

Better recreation than vacation

Some sage finger wags

About the time you pack to go away

Room is made for tomes of inspiration

Profit from prophet

When all you crave is nothing but nothing

So out damned spot of complication

No bard is welcome

For to no ant goes this sluggard with joy