Art Song
Murphy, Peter E.
Art Song He hears it when stopped in traffic at the intersection where expressionless commuters drift by behind winds of glass. It's not the kind of music he could dance to, nor would he dance...
...In between are stanzas of desire—me you me you— until the light changes and he shifts himself into drive, confused by the determination of traffic revving its engines and the wipers singing their little hearts out, brush strokes on a snare drum, which is what he imagines is the music of his own heart: a thin layer of skin stretched over a hollowed root, rattled by the swish and whisk of light fingers— the scratch and fizz of air gasping through dry chambers...
...It's not the kind of music he could dance to, nor would he dance if it were not for women who think his soul generous...
...Peter E. Murphy Commonweal 20 October 12,2001...
...Its refrain—me me me—is also the coda...
...No, he hears the music of insistence...
Vol. 128 • October 2001 • No. 17
