“Remember me ! ” FRANK CORCORAN
That age-old cry, piteous, imperious, born out of terror, oblivion our threat.
Remember me in tones, in bronze, in the name of a lousy street, or a tomb as a clarinet concerto, what else ?
Motor of art, and- as with death- a motor of religion,of that which binds us.
I chisel it in here , I write it on water or in the sky, all ou 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 , even bad, indifferent workers in,
well, all the arts will yell quietly those four syllables.
So ” R ” and ” M ” and “M” and ” B ”, they enclose just three vowels…. Not bad.