Prose Poem Regarding The Music Of The Slip S T A N L E Y G E M M E L L
Seaside, at the Outhanox, the red disc of the sun becomes our early morning serenade. Three musicians have each captured a fabulous rose from the sea foam. Weaving impossible and gorgeous melody into the crisp air, one can hear the echoes ring against the fine flame-gold of the Temple walls. Guitar in contrast to drum, voice set against bass, the voice of the water runs through the music, counter-poised rhythm to the Atlantean heartbeat, question to all things, quest to beauty, all seeing spirit-jaguar taking the shape of music to bound through jungle and field. The three musicians' faces shine, who create as yet unheard of beauty to a gathering of gentle and joyous faces in like. Wild beasts pause to listen, as also does the wind and water's waves. Like vines creeping along the Temple walls, hypnotized scales of tone alive with slow perfection, suddenly crash and beat with rigor and quaking force, from out of the silence, into the clear blue of noon. Upon the sea, great ships of jade sway. Oh, great and mysterious lyric, or Island of Peace, reaching toward the sun's zenith. The music become an island of one's own. Palm tree fronds sway upon the shore, gathered armies offer useless weapons to the afternoon. The sun offers itself to the horizon, before dark, which finally falls. Children wait for the moon to rise. Beautiful women walk to the ocean shore and gather for the music. Three musicians play for the presence of the moon. Stars rise and shine their reflections off the women's eyes. Everything is as beautiful and full of sadness and joy as the various strands of rhythm. The music aligned to the pattern of the stars, in tender equi-form to the blood of the jaguar, or the lyric's cry. Ancestors gather at the beauty of the tones, glad to be among their offspring's beauty, shadows melting into fantastic dream. At midnight, the concert ends, which had begun at dawn. The musician's return their fabulous ocean-rose to the sea. The gathered people file from the Outhanox grounds to return home, sated. The people's conscience has been renewed by the music, goodness gathered to the good. The Children of Atlantis have blessed the land, and travel far and wide, gathering mysterious beauty for their return. _____ APRIL 30, 2004 --------------------------------------- ** We welcome your thoughtful comments - especially newbies!. Please participate by sending an e-mail to [EMAIL PROTECTED] ** Web archive at http://email.theslip.net ** To unsubscribe: Send an e-mail to [EMAIL PROTECTED] with the text 'signoff theslip' in the body of the message
