Back Up
Having been a guitarist long enough
To be emotionally invested in the craft,
It has occurred to me
That having some back-ups in the wings might be prudent.
One hand decommissioned?
Okay, I’ll play the trumpet, then.
Both hands?
No trouble, most choirs are short on tenors.
A loss of hearing would force further diversification.
For my tastes, poetry wins out over drawing,
And certainly over calligraphy.
No one’s ever had a sordid, sensual romance with a calligrapher!
If sight was to go as well,
I'd fall back on the sordid, sensual romance,
And assert touch
To be a perfectly legitimate medium.
And if that should go too, as all things eventually will,
And I find myself utterly unplugged from the mixing board,
I suppose I’d have to figure out
How to dissolve self into universe
In a somewhat more direct way
Than by vibrating air with strings and wood.
To be emotionally invested in the craft,
It has occurred to me
That having some back-ups in the wings might be prudent.
One hand decommissioned?
Okay, I’ll play the trumpet, then.
Both hands?
No trouble, most choirs are short on tenors.
A loss of hearing would force further diversification.
For my tastes, poetry wins out over drawing,
And certainly over calligraphy.
No one’s ever had a sordid, sensual romance with a calligrapher!
If sight was to go as well,
I'd fall back on the sordid, sensual romance,
And assert touch
To be a perfectly legitimate medium.
And if that should go too, as all things eventually will,
And I find myself utterly unplugged from the mixing board,
I suppose I’d have to figure out
How to dissolve self into universe
In a somewhat more direct way
Than by vibrating air with strings and wood.