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Poem: Great Again

The longing bursts inside you for
choruses of gloria tua
from lungs too choked with
smoke to sing

and even though icons
hold sway among the ashes,
sound doesn't travel the same.
As if Miserere

was never misprinted,
and the shivers trickling
over and off you, are solely
unfallen rain.

But mercy is never
what you wanted to ask for,
and this fall hurts
because in it, you see yourself.

------------------------------------



As a sort of a side note, the story of Allegri's Miserere is the chocolate chip cookie story of the choral music world.  If you've never heard Miserere performed live in a cathedral, well, first of all, you should; and second of all the arrangement commonly heard is a result of a mistake.  Read the link if you're interested.

Recently I've been having skin problems, you know, the kind of problems where the dermatologist speaks to you in Latin and chops off a chunk of flesh.  Just to make matters even more bizarre, I have to stand naked* in a tanning booth** three times a week to cure it.

Meanwhile, Blogger decided I needed a nickname.  "Who would you like to post as?" it asked me.  I tried to skip to my blog, and it wouldn't let me.  So I put in my current favorite cheesy line; a mash-up of two cliches that both involve swords, only sans the swords.  I'm wondering if it will let me change it periodically.  Like what if I'm in more of a Jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none mood?  Or what if I suddenly develop taste at an advanced age?  What then?


*Individual results may vary.
**Not actually a tanning booth.  

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