Frank Corcoran

irish composer

SING THE WORD ONLY.

Yes.

Today is even more Keatsian, 25 degrees, kindly heat, kindly, nearly serene the lot, my lot. Post Venice colours,

water/colours and / sounds,

lagoon lyrics to be explored. Began my 4. String Quartet, dreamed last night….

This:

The day was snowing / This temple farted white birds / How long till my death ?

Three long years have passed / An Morfhile mailed me lines / Long melted the snow….

What colour these gulls / Swerving between the snow-flakes ? / My cold eyes see all

My Tipperary / cold as wintry Japan / Blue knuckles singing

Cool saki is best / Great hate, little room. Japan / my frozen mind now.

I love kimonos / Lovely prattering creatures / More wood on the fire

Tonight I roasted Pangar / Ban, my cold love , from hunger / Curse, weep for Issa

Posted under: Humble Hamburg Musings

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