REMEMBER ME !
“Remember me ! ” that age/old cry, piteous, imperious, born out of terror ,
oblivion being our threat….
Remember me in tones, bronze, the name of a lousy street, a tomb as a clarinet concerto, what else ?
Motor of art, with death a motor of religion, that which binds us.
I chisel it in , write it on water, in
the sky, all
orchestral trumpets blazing.
Change the nib.
Begin a new composition.
Oblivion will lap. Of course it will. Stoics
and Epicureans and our Buddha and
all the Celtic saints of the Burren and great , bad, indifferent workers in,
well, all the arts,
will yell quietly those four syllables.
vbg R and M and B enclose just two vowels….