Frank Corcoran

Since July 13 the big silence , the password broken; hath an enemy
done this ?
Six mighty summer heat-waves have come and gone. I weathered. We
sweltered, were baked in Dostum’s desert tin cages. Cooler September,
one can begin thinking about thinking again – thinking about musical form and substance, the Tune The Ould Cow Died On, such thoughts before Venice and its sluicing, grinding gear-changes, the boat-bus
bumping or crashing.
I will write soon . About writing .