oh.my.

*mildly altered on 7.13 as I've decided I didn't need to be an asshole to the other Mr. Cunningham, whom I don't know, have never met, and have no ill-intention towards. my stance on over-wrought academic MFA crap remains unchanged.*

um, please don't ever confuse this guy with me. the name thing is goddamn hilarious.

anyway, to compare and contrast, here is a new one I wrote for my sister and her man, on the occasion of their tattooed, rock and roll union:

without harmony, no music

sunlight
races down
Southern streets.

it cuts across fractured glass
and illuminates
some of the
dark spaces.

it
shines on
rosewood fret boards and pearl inlay,
brightens color and ink,
clears a space for music to breathe,
makes a home for vibration and song.

light and shadow, daylight
and stars,
roses, iron and the right
combination of
high and low notes
working together.

without harmony,
no music.

when you seek
the perfect note,
you endure hours
of mistakes,
you court dissonance and
discord;

this is the price of hope.

it takes patience
and time to
wade thru a
masquerade of noise,
to navigate the
endless static.

and in the end,
it takes
a cacophony of
strings bending and breaking
until
finally

you hear the note.

you hear the chord.

you hear the symphony.

you hear music.



cunningham
07