Glass: Contrary Motion

The other day I sat and listened to Donald Joyce play Philip Glass on the organ. Glass was a minimalist composer, so the experience took me back to my year of trying to major in music theory, playing things like Piano Phase by Steve Reich. The organ, however, makes the haunting ethereal gooey dullness twice as palpable, and twice as deadening. (You know, deadening in a good way.) The experience was so enjoyable and nostalgic I thought it might give me enough ammunition to produce a poem.

I chose the triolet form (here's another triolet from my other blog), because, although it predates minimalism by a few centuries, it still has that repetitive echo-y feeling, which seems appropriate. Maybe not as appropriate as a sestina would be, but easier to write.

Glass: Contrary Motion

Organ pipes demystified by

stereo ossification.

Gray film glazes on your eyes while

organ pipes demystify. By

sleep's arrival you'll know why

the metal chambers hark salvation.

Organ pipes demystified by

stereo ossification.